Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Date: November 14, 2036

Divergence: 0.334581α

A ticking clock, the sobs of a woman, and the banging of a bed were the only sounds to be heard on this night.

Sitting in the dark of a plain, undecorated room, a scientist was rocking back and forth at the foot of her bed, hitting it with her back at an uncomfortable force. Though no one would have guessed based on the severity of her breakdown, she was in her mid 40s, and a highly emotional creature to boot. Despite the camera in her room, she felt sufficiently out of view of everyone else, allowing her to fully wallow in the emotions she felt and the memories she gathered.

Will I be able to see my Mama again?

Kurisu Makise gripped the sides of her head tightly, reminiscing on the last words of the little girl that she more than likely doomed only a couple hours ago. She was no older than 10, a Parisian girl who lost her family in the recent French Action of 2032. A violent uprising which was quickly and brutally suppressed, killing thousands in the process.

Lately, she'd been haunted by visions of each person that volunteered to help test out her time machine. Lured in by the promises of riches, finding lost family, or simply being a use to society, these people flocked to SERN's research centers to provide their minds and bodies for Kurisu to use. She did her absolute best to delay the development of the time machine, stretching what should have been a years-long endeavor into decades, but SERN had caught on and began flooding Kurisu with more and more test subjects that they mandated she use. The longer she delayed the time machine's creation, the more people she'd be forced to sacrifice.

She bore it all with gritted teeth, rationalizing with herself that these horrid trials that SERN were running would inevitably be undone, but as time's gone on, as her deadline was fast approaching, she felt herself running out of hope. In the past of this worldline, Itaru Hashida was able to develop a time machine that sent his daughter Suzuha Amane back in time in an effort to retrieve the IBN5100. It was a herculean effort done in upmost secrecy to the point that Suzuha didn't even know who her father was. It was the product of this herculean effort that led to the mission's downfall and to the current predicament that Kurisu found herself in. Suzuha made a pit stop to the 2010s, trying to find out who her father — who she only knew as Barrel Titor — was. Suzuha could not have predicted that a rainstorm would sweep its way through Akihabara and damage all the electronics within her time machine. She could not have predicted that her newfound father, the 18-year-old Hashida, would not have been able to find and fix all the issues within the time machine. She could not have predicted that these issues would lead to her crashing her time machine in the past and have her memories, and thus her life's purpose, robbed from her until it was far too late to recover the mission objective. She could not have predicted that the Future Gadget Lab would be raided by SERN immediately upon receiving news of her failure before Rintaro Okabe had a chance to make things right.

Kurisu was unsure what would happen this go around if things were to come to fruition. She was unsure exactly when Suzuha was sent back in time on the prior attempt — the only thing she knew for certain was that she was sent back in the year 2036. Now, less than two months away from the new year, Kurisu didn't even know if there was going to be another attempt made. Perhaps this time around, Hashida was caught and dealt with before he became a larger issue for SERN. Perhaps this time around, Suzuha wasn't even born to begin with. Worldline convergence always seemed like a fickle thing, and maybe their fates weren't tied to it the way Okabe's, Mayuri's, and Kurisu's own were.

She shuddered at the thought of Okabe. In 2025 he was killed in a directed attack to root out his resistance — the exact way that Suzuha had warned both herself and Okabe about when discussing the future of the Alpha Worldline. Her captors made sure to show her ample evidence of his demise, cementing their grip on her as she no longer had anyone to live for. She remembered the last time they saw each other when they first tried to escape SERN's clutches in 2011 after being held captive by them for a year and a half. She remembered the hope she retained when he was able to escape SERN's grasp and that maybe, one day, he would have been able to return to save her like a knight in shining armor. All those hopes were crushed when she was forced to see his mangled body plastered on all the screens at her facility: a hallmark of SERN's success and further evidence of the rigidity of worldline convergence.

Sobs continued to escape Kurisu's lips. What more was there to do? Perhaps now was the time to give in and give SERN what they wanted. She could no longer bear sacrificing lives for a future that wasn't guaranteed. She remembered the hope in the little girl's eyes when she blatantly lied to her, telling her that all was going to be okay. She remembered how much she had to force herself to stop shaking as she prepped the final calculations of the prototype time machine. She remembered the tears she suppressed as the little girl disappeared into space-time, never to be seen again. Tears that were now freely flowing.

A loud buzzing sound quickly interrupted her thoughts. It was the sound of the intercom in her room becoming active with a voice on the other end. Usually, that voice belonged to Hiiragi Akiko, the same woman who thwarted her escape in 2011, now her round-the-clock handler. Akiko made it a point to relish in Kurisu's suffering. It was her idea to bring in the child for testing, a step in the deep end even for a dystopian overlord like SERN.

"Some congratulations are in order, Makise Kurisu," it was Akiko speaking in Japanese to Kurisu. "My actions were meant to inspire you, yes, but to think it would do this much was unfathomable even to me. You truly are a genius."

It was that same mocking tone that Kurisu always hated. Words dripping with such sarcasm that only served to stab Kurisu's heart.

"What do you want, Akiko?" Kurisu was formal with Akiko in public, always referring to her as Akiko-san or Ms. Akiko, but from the comfort of her room, she dropped all pretenses of respect.

"Very snappy for a woman who has quite literally shaped history."

Kurisu's eyes widened and her head snapped in the direction of the camera. "What do you mean?"

"Thanks to your efforts we've succeeded," Akiko sounded giddier than usual. "Who could have known your bleeding heart was this powerful? "

Kurisu's tablet flashed on her desk, notifying her of a new message in her inbox. Knowing that Akiko and the message were more than likely connected, she hesitantly got up from her spot at the foot of her bed and grabbed her tablet at the desk. The preview of the message was the title of a report that was generated only a few minutes prior. The title was enough to nearly make her drop her tablet: Report 27 - Successful Preservation of Human Subject When Transported Through Time . The first report that wasn't a Jellyman Report.

She opened the report, her eyes flitting across the English words that comprised it. "Subject deceased," "no jellylike substance reported," "subject manifested in intended time," were the words that jumped out at her. To end the report, like all other Jellyman Reports, there was a newspaper clipping from the past. On that newspaper clipping was the picture of the same little girl Kurisu had sent back in time earlier in the evening, her eyes closed, her body covered in burns from the fires that raged around Paris during that time, but just as the report said, not made out of jelly.

Kurisu's legs lost their strength and she suddenly found herself collapsed on the floor. Not only did she sacrifice the life of a little girl who radiated the hope she once had, she also unwittingly advanced SERN's cause to the final step. She must have unconsciously tweaked the settings of the time machine in hopes of easing the little girl's pain. In doing so, she just made matters worse for everyone. She knew that no one was going to survive the trip in SERN's prototype one-way time machine. The human body was not meant to withstand the rapid compression and decompression by the Kerr black holes generated to send someone back in space-time. But SERN also knew that. All they needed was someone to not turn into jelly for them to continue to phase 2 and develop the actual time machine with the structural integrity to withstand the power of the Kerr black holes. She just handed SERN the keys to controlling time.

"I didn't think the excitement would be enough for you to lose your legs from under you," Akiko laughed. "You are the Mother of the Time Machine, as convergence foretold."

Convergence. It was always convergence. No matter what, Kurisu was always going to be a slave to time. No matter what, this was always going to be how things ended. She was always going to bear the shame of being the one to cement SERN's control on the world. She was always going to be the Mother of the Time Machine.

"You are without a doubt the most successful scientist in human history," Akiko continued. "It's too bad you were such an abject failure for your friends."

Kurisu drew in a sharp breath. Akiko always remarked Kurisu with a veiled disgust. It was a given, the woman was the former lead of the time travel project before Kurisu was forced to get involved. Once her genius became apparent to SERN, Akiko became nothing more than a facilitator for Kurisu to lead the project. Her insults were always creative and beat around the bush, usually taunting Kurisu's intelligence due to the amount of times a Jellyman Report was generated during her tenure as project lead. However, there was no filter with what was just said. Never before this had Akiko pushed Kurisu's buttons by using her friends. This was Akiko in her rawest, most disgustingly cruel form. Her true nature.

"Okabe Rintaro, Hashida Itaru, Shiina Mayuri. To think that those three even trusted you with their futures. An experiment-loving girl like yourself just couldn't help herself in the face of a potentially monumental discovery, even if it meant sacrificing her friends. Do you understand me, Makise? It was your greed that got them killed. It was your hunger for discovery that allowed this all to happen. It was your development of the initial time-leap machine that started us down this path."

Kurisu began to shake, no longer able to keep it together. She was at fault. She wasn't careful with her research. She should have listened to her dad. She shouldn't have become a scientist. She was a mistake. A mistake who allowed the current world's ruling structure to happen. If she didn't let her curiosity get the best of her when she met Rintaro Okabe all that time ago, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe convergence would have failed. Or was it convergence that made her like this? Yes, it was convergence's fault that she was so curious about the world's workings to begin with. She was a slave to time, that was all.

"You've played a very critical role in SERN's development of the time machine and we can't thank you enough. However, your role is no longer necessary. We will proceed as planned without you."

The slot to her door opened up very briefly for an object to be dropped through. Kurisu could also hear the door lock, a feature she didn't know it had. She bolted up from her spot and tried throwing the door open, but try as she might, it was magnetically stuck in place. She looked down at the object that was dropped through the slot, a loaded pistol.

"If convergence permits, do us the favor and kill yourself, " Akiko spoke with pure venom. "May your friends cast you out of Heaven when you meet them in the afterlife."

And with that, the subtle buzzing of the intercom stopped. The only sound now was the ticking of the clock and Kurisu's ragged breathing. Would her friends forgive her? Would she allow them to forgive her? Yes, convergence may have dictated her every move, but what if there was truth to Akiko's words? What if her own curiosity is what led to these events being set in stone to begin with? She was the reason why things initially turned out this way. Now time is just iterating on itself, remembering and enforcing the very same events that set everything in motion. She was a slave to time, but time was a slave to her unbound scientific mind. A vicious cycle that she just wanted to be free from.

She eyed the pistol and bent down to pick it up, examining it closely. The pistol was a tool to break her free from her chains. Using that tool, she would no longer be forced to live a life she didn't want to. It didn't matter anymore if there was an afterlife. It didn't matter if her friends would be there to forgive her if there was an afterlife. She just wanted to be free.

Kurisu placed the barrel of the gun below her chin and pointed it up, tears streaming down her face as she did so. The last thing on her mind was the summer of 2010 in Akihabara. The last innocent summer she would ever have in her life. She quietly hoped that one day, perhaps in another worldline she could return to that time. She quietly hoped that the afterlife was not so cruel to her. She hoped that, with the pull of the trigger, she'd be set free.

She squeezed her finger, her breathing hitched, a flash of light followed by a loud bang, then darkness... freedom.

Date: November 14, 2036 1:42:21AM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

Kurisu Okabe awoke with a start, sweat dripping down her face and covering her back. Her breathing was ragged and shallow and it felt like she was suffocating in her own room. Tears were freely falling from her face as the worst aspects of the nightmare continued replaying in her mind. It wasn't until she looked over that the feeling of tranquility slowly but surely replaced all the fear in her body. Unbothered by the sudden movement next to him, Rintaro Okabe slept soundly, his breathing subtly moving the sheets he was beneath up and down. Much to Kurisu's delight, her husband was a quiet sleeper, so she spent this time silently observing him and taking in his features, trying her best to distract her mind.

Over the past couple years, Okabe seemed to have developed a nostalgia for how he looked in his teens, returning to a medium-length hair that he could slick back rather than the long, scruffy hair he sported in his 20s and 30s. If she were honest with herself, Kurisu found Okabe a thousand times more handsome with the haircut he currently sported than the ridiculous hair he was trying to grow out. After all, it reminded her of the time they first met properly after he rescued her at Radio Kaikan, the version of himself that she couldn't help falling in love with. He also recently shaved, but stubble was slowly starting to set in again. There was a mental itch that his stubble scratched for her as, often, she would find herself rubbing her cheeks up against his and allowing the hair to prickle her gently. Okabe always called her "an odd woman" whenever she did it, but he had no right to speak given who he was.

After admiring his features for long enough, Kurisu realized she still needed some fresh air. Even though she was calmer, there was a stifling feeling to the room that only outside air would be able to resolve. She quietly shifted out of the covers as to not wake the sleeping Okabe and shuffled her way to the roof of their apartment complex.

The Los Angeles sky was clear tonight, finally enjoying a reprieve from the rainstorms that rolled through in the previous days. She leaned on the railing overlooking the city and took a deep breath still trying to procecss her vivid nightmare. The roof reminded her a little bit of the top of the Future Gadget Lab back in Akihabara, maybe that was also the reason why Okabe would come up here each time he needed to calm down or each time he was up here just for the sake of being up here. Never really finding much use for it, it was only now that she could truly enjoy the feelings of nostalgia and general warmness of being on the roof.

She recalled the intense parts of her dream once more. Specifically the helpless sorrow that seemed to be impossible to shake. Okabe explained to her what her dreams meant, that they were her memories from other worldlines, but as of recently, these dreams mostly just involved her dying some way or another after completing the time machine - a seemingly inescapable fate. He had told her about the convergence points in that worldline, that Mayuri dies in August of 2010, he forms the Resistance, and SERN controls the world, but she never believed him until she started having those dreams.

The 44-year-old let out a shaky sigh, evidence of the fact that the fear and anguish she felt in her nightmare were still present. It also didn't help that the wind began to pick up a little bit. In due time, she was bound to forget the contents of her dream just like the previous ones. Shortly afterwards, she'd forget the feelings she was currently experiencing. It was a reality she was perfectly fine with accepting. However, based on what she gathered of Okabe's words, he lived through that kind of thing. He personally experienced the death of Mayuri ad infinitum, yet still had the mental resolve to be the childlike, albeit still charismatic, arrogant person that he was in the current day and age. She truly couldn't fathom the sheer amount of mental fortitude required to be able to come away with those memories without showing it. She was horribly shaken up by a dream she now only remembered half the contents of! Being in Okabe's shoes was something that she very easily wanted no part of, but she was glad she could lighten the load for him when it seemed like he was about ready to slip. While he wasn't one to show this trauma regularly, there were moments where she caught him spiraling and it was up to her to save him before he lost himself to his memories. He was in a much better mental state now, but she couldn't help thinking back to the summer of 2011 when she visited Japan for the first time since her attempted murder. The agony that would appear on his face from out of nowhere was saddening. The terror that emanated from him each time he slipped into his memories was palpable. There was even a point where he suddenly pulled a knife on the old building manager, screaming at Kurisu to prepare the time-leap machine as quickly as possible. All for him to realize that such a thing didn't exist and that he had threatened the life of an innocent man.

The summer of 2011 was a tough time for both of them to reckon with. Kurisu always had a horrible sense of déjà vu whenever she was around him, like everything she was doing with him for the very first time was already done. Logically speaking, it shouldn't have made sense, since that summer was the first time they ever spent an extended amount of time together. It tore her emotions asunder as she began to question what was real and what was merely a dream. But Okabe was quick to the rescue as he explained that the déjà vu she was feeling was actually her own memories of other worldlines blending into her memories of the Steins Gate Worldline. She was assaulted by dreams and faint memories of these other worlds while Okabe was assaulted by the memories of his past on those worlds. She was able to find comfort in his familiarity and the explanations he had given. He was able to find comfort in her. While Kurisu may have had the inklings of falling for Okabe when she found him the month after he rescued her at Radio Kaikan, it wasn't until the summer of 2011 that she realized she truly loved the man, mad scientist persona and all. Deep beneath the obnoxious attitude of Hououin Kyouma was a man who was willing to do anything for his friends. The way he was patient with her and comforted her through her mixed feelings and confused memories in spite of his own suffering was proof enough of the kind of man that he was.

It was enough for her to shirk her usual thick-headed stubbornness and make the first move for them to officially become boyfriend and girlfriend. Yes, he had charmed his way into kissing her on a couple separate occasions, but for some reason he would never try to push the envelope with her and clarify where exactly they stood. Once she was able to successfully get over struggles with her bitter sense of déjà vu, she finally asked him to define the relationship. She smiled inwardly, recalling how flustered both of them were as they reckoned with their emotions. It was as he was walking her back to her hotel that everything just happened. She forgot what exactly he said, but it was enough to properly piss her off. She threatened to leave him, to run away and never come back — and she meant it too. Having gotten the answers she was so desperately looking for, she was willing to sacrifice a budding relationship with the manchild due to his abrasive personality. But just as he usually did, he pulled her back in with his charisma, his earnestness, and his tender touch. He stole another kiss from her that night, the last one that she'd allow to be stolen without consequence. When they got to the hotel, she invited him in and...

The cool November breeze interrupted her train of thought and she shivered a bit. She cursed herself for not bringing a blanket or anything warm out with her, but she still chose to have her arms resting on the railing and continue taking in the city. Sure, she was risking a cold, but this feeling was a very serviceable distraction from the slowly fading memories of that other worldline. She closed her eyes and hunched her shoulders, allowing the cold rush through her body and send a chill down her spine. The sweat she accumulated during the nightmare served as an extra boost to the coolness that invaded her. She shivered, but she still found a weird delight in it. She felt alive, very much unlike how she felt in her dream. She felt free. She basked in this feeling for only a couple of moments until she felt fabric being draped over her. A thick blanket that replaced the coolness with a comfortable weight. To top it off, she was enveloped in a hug from behind, feeling a chin being rested on her head. She nestled herself into the person behind her, making herself smaller.

"It would do us no good if my Assistant were to catch a cold now would it?"

That smugness in that tone, with that underlying sense of caring. The only person that it could ever belong to was none other than her husband, Rintaro Okabe.

"I was aware of the potential consequences and ascertained that the risk was well worth this reward" she responded, her eyes closed as she remained in Okabe's embrace. "Besides, I know we're old, but it seems like I'll need to jam an electrode into your hippocampus to remind you that I'm not your Assistant."

This man, even though he was 44-years-old going on 45, was still such a child. He let out a chuckle as he let go of Kurisu and leaned on the railing beside her wrapped in a blanket of his own. He had aged wonderfully, a couple gray hairs were present here and there, but his face didn't show too many signs of him being as old as he was. She looked at him and took in his features. This man was her husband, of all the fish in the sea that she possibly could have gone with, it just had to be this insufferable manchild who saved her life at Radio Kaikan. This man was the father of her twin children, Reina and Haruki Okabe. Two young prodigies who matched the intelligence of their mother with the vivaciousness of their father. Both in their last year of high school (granted, having skipped a few grades), they were already planning on enrolling at Viktor Chondria University to continue their education.

It was this man who followed her to Viktor Chondria University in 2014 when he graduated from Tokyo Denki University, having changed his major to Computational Neuroscience and becoming a part of the Viktor Chondria Neuroscience Institute. It was this man who vigorously defended his PhD thesis against her regarding the Quantum Theory of Cognition and its application to the prototype Amadeus system at the time. She still didn't know why she was on that panel for Okabe's dissertation, as everyone in the room should have known the potential conflict of interest, but it seemed like mischievous Professor Alexis Leskinen knew better than most that the person who would push Okabe to the limit in defending his thesis would be none other than his partner.

And what a brilliant scientist he had become. While Kurisu and Maho were able to recover most of the ground that they lost when Amadeus — their A.I. that was meant to house the memories of a subject and emulate them — was mysteriously deleted in 2010, Okabe was the one that got them across the finish line once he officially became a researcher at the Neuroscience Institute. The experiences he gathered talking about time travel and actually experiencing time travel with the Alpha version of Kurisu gave him a perspective that neither woman could have ever thought of having when trying to develop and optimize Amadeus' memory storage function that made the A.I. more closely replicate a human being. As such, it was only fair that when the time came to present Amadeus to the rest of the scientific community, Professor Leskinen immediately handed Okabe the responsibility of doing so. Okabe, humble through the facade of arrogance that he portrayed, would only accept on the condition that Kurisu and Maho were there to present it with him as it was the collective effort that brought the system to its presentable state to begin with. It was this group effort that netted all three of them the Nobel Prize in Medicine due to Amadeus' memory storage function that essentially eliminated Alzheimer's and other degenerative brain diseases.

Kurisu continued eyeing Okabe as he also began to admire the cityscape before them. "I felt you when you got out of bed, but I figured I'd give you a little bit of time to process things by yourself."

"Ah," Kurisu felt guilty and turned her view away from Okabe and towards the cityscape. "I'm sorry I woke you. It was just a really intense nightmare that I needed to shake off."

"Another dream from the Alpha worldline?" Okabe turned to face her in response to her turning away.

Kurisu nodded. Flashes of the dream returned to her, hitting her with another wave of deep sadness. It was enough to move her to tears once more.

"Everyone was dead," she explained. "My killing of a little girl led to the final steps of the time machine being built. Once SERN got everything they wanted out of me, they just gave me a gun. It was as if they knew just how much I wanted the suffering to end."

"Seems like a very heavy dream indeed," Okabe was soft with his words as he approached to comfort Kurisu. "I'm sorry you have to go through them, my love."

He wrapped her in another hug, this time from the side. She could feel the warmth he exuded as he draped his blanket over her. This was an unusually pleasant side of Okabe that Kurisu had only seen in the most serious of times. When he got like this, it only meant that he was shouldering an intense burden of his own and didn't want anyone else to suffer the way he was. Still, she relished in the closeness and allowed herself to be enveloped by him. It was always so soothing to be the object of Okabe's affection. Though just as quickly as she recognized the feeling of Okabe's deep despair, she acted on it.

Looking up at him, she made her concern known. "What's the matter, Okarin?"

The words smoothly flowed out of her mouth. Once used to mock Okabe, "Okarin" became a regular term of endearment for Kurisu, taking a page out of Mayuri and Daru's book.

Okabe remained in place, holding on to Kurisu, his breathing at a snail's pace. Finally he gave her one big squeeze before letting go once more. He cast his view towards the cityscape once more, seemingly unable to look at Kurisu while he opened up about what bothered him.

"Reading Steiner allows me to retain my memoery across worldlines," he started. "But on the downside, any memories my alternate self had on the lead-up to my jump into a worldline would immediately be lost. Things that would be considered normal for the worldline, like for example a moe-less Akiba, would be considered absolutely abnormal to me, the version of myself who explicitly recalled there being moe culture within the city."

She eyed him intently as he spoke. "I've never had a dream born out of memories from any of the worldlines I traveled through. I've tried to find ways to explain it, even using Amadeus as a means to derive just why my Reading Steiner acts the way it does. The explanation continues to elude me, and I'm afraid I just might be out of time."

Kurisu's eyes widened. "What do you mean you're 'out of time'? What time limit are you operating against?"

"I never told you this, but in my first attempt to save you, I killed you by accident," Okabe began another roundabout answer. He never liked talking much about the summer of 2010 and barely went into the details of how he knew to rescue her. "It was this first attempt that was necessary for me to get the guidance I needed to succeed when I tried again."

Kurisu listened, not allowing any word get by her. Okabe killed her the first time? He traveled through time twice to save her? From the way he spoke, it sounded like he ran into issues with one of those convergence points he talked about. Was her death one of those? How did he succeed? All she remembered from that time was that he got stabbed, she was trying to call emergency services, and in a snap-second she woke up in a puddle of blood with her savior having disappeared into thin air.

"That guidance came from a future me," Okabe continued. "He sent the video from 2025, the year that I was fated to die on the Alpha and Beta worldlines. He gave me the solution in the simplest terms: 'deceive yourself, deceive the world'. And so, when the time came to try again, I did just as he said. I tricked my past self into believing you died by having you lay unconscious in a pool of blood. It was the exact same thing that I saw when I first found you. The convergence point was not that you died, but that I found you and thought you were dead."

Okabe took in a sharp breath. Kurisu knew that he was being assaulted by the unpleasant memories of the summer of 2010. In response, she huddled up closer to him and rested herself on his arm. "Take your time. I'm here Okarin."

She watched Okabe. His eyes were closed as he was trying to get his breathing under control. Even now, two decades removed from the ordeal, he still suffered greatly from the experience. Memories that only he had. Horrible experiences that he kept to himself. She couldn't begin to imagine just how much he altered his brain chemistry from the repeated trauma he suffered from that summer. He rested his head on hers. Additionally, he took her hand and held on to it, giving it some light squeezes. It was the way he would express his thanks whenever she comforted him.

"The thing that always bothered me," he finally started again, taking his head off of Kurisu's. "Was just not knowing how he knew that 'tricking' convergence was the way to go about things. What did he do to come to that conclusion?"

Kurisu could sense that he was getting to the point and beat him to it. "Do you think he got the idea from faking his own death?"

Okabe nodded. "You're quick on the uptake, assistant. I just wish you weren't so quick because it's gotten in the way of my very elaborate monologue."

Kurisu exaggeratedly sighed with a smile planted on her face. "Yeah, yeah, go ahead and sue me."

Okabe let out a wry chuckle. "But anways, yes, you're correct in assuming what I've assumed. The only reason why I'm so confident of that now is because, for the first time ever, I had a dream of another worldline."

Kurisu's eyes widened in shock. "This worldline was hell. Soldiers were converging on our facility, and the version of me in the dream was prepping Suzuha to get into the time machine. Everyone in the Future Gadget Lab, including Maho was present. Everyone except you. I can only assume that this was a dream of the Beta worldline, the worldline where you were dead. The worldline from where I sent the video."

At this point, Kurisu had fully turned to Okabe who, for the first time in the night, completely hid his face from her. Okabe told her in excruciating detail just how Reading Steiner worked, how it served as a total overwrite of the worldline's Okabe that he would jump into when altering the divergence. She was again made painfully aware tonight just how unforgivingly complete Reading Steiner was in its capabilities. She didn't think she had any reason to worry since Okabe made it perfectly clear that time travel had no place in a worldline like Steins Gate. All the memories they shared were supposed to remain there. Now, a dream that may or may not have been real is alluding to the possibility of having all of that torn away from her. Their children would have their father torn away from them.

"You've never had an alternate memory-related dream before," Kurisu began to use her logic to try and quell her anxiety. "How can you tell that this was one of those?"

"Just a feeling," Okabe shrugged his shoulders then slouched back on the rail. "There was this horrible, pervasively foreboding feeling that I had throughout the dream."

It was that same feeling that Kurisu felt whenever she had her nightmares. She began to list off more unique feelings and distinct physical sensations that could only be felt in the worldline memory-induced dreams and each one was confirmed to have been felt by Okabe. With each affirmative answer, Kurisu could feel her heart sinking deeper and deeper. There were only two things left that Kurisu could place all of her faith in: that the worldline he dreamed of did not lead to Steins Gate which would negate any and all risk of another version replacing him, and if it was, that the version of himself that he dreamed of died before the shift happened.

"...What..." Kurisu's shoulders slumped and she had to look away from Okabe lest she cry from seeing him. "...What are we supposed to do...?"

Okabe sat looking out towards the cityscape. His lips were drawn tight, but everything else was so relaxed. A reluctant sense of acceptance seemed to have washed over him as not even his wife could try to save him with her logic. Kurisu continued wracking her brain, her eyes flitting back and forth as she tried her best to visualize multiple solutions at once. She was trying to find something - ANYTHING - that would lessen the potential chances of a Reading Steiner event.

From next to her, she heard heavy breathing, which turned into chuckling, which turned into a hysteric laugh - a laugh that was still only a few levels below his overexaggerated cackle as Hououin Kyouma.

"What's..." Kurisu's incredulity turned to anger. "What's so funny?!"

Okabe's laugh began to die down in response to Kurisu's outburst, but a smile still remained on his lips.

"How could you be laughing about this?! You run the risk of being taken away from this world and you're laughing about it?! What about Reina?! What about Haruki?! You're laughing when they might lose a father?!... When I might lose a husband?"

Kurisu began to lose her words once she listed herself as a possible victim. The tears that had been building overflowed as she spoke. No longer able to form a cohesive argument, Kurisu completely broke down. Yet despite this, Okabe still had that damned smile planted on his face.

How can he be okay with the what's basically the equivalent of dying? Kurisu wondered to herself.

Okabe looked at Kurisu, sighing slowly, and patted her head. "It seems like there's a potential for mad science to be conducted my dear Assistant. Any insane mad scientist would cackle in delight at the potentiality."

The words that usually came out as smug, were instead said as if Okabe was comforting a child. Such careful reassurance that even made Kurisu feel reassured even though she didn't know what he had planned.

After a little bit more of sniffling and trying to regain her composure, Kurisu was able to speak. "...What do you plan to do?"

"Oh, I plan to do nothing," Okabe quickly retorted. "This will be up to you and our children to figure out."

Kurisu let out a deep breath before smacking Okabe's arm. "Be serious, Okarin. What are we supposed to do?"

Okabe stood unperturbed by Kurisu's smack. His smile turned into a quick grin before returning to the serious side that he showcased when he emerged from the apartment.

"It pertains to the theory I defended against you all those years ago," Okabe referred to his dissertation on the Quantum Theory of Cognition. "Now we get to put it through a practical defense rather than one mostly based on theory."

Kurisu remained silent while Okabe began to pace and explain his thinking.

"We modeled the Amadeus A.I. to closely replicate a human brain, but the one thing we haven't been able to figure out is how to replicate the act of losing memories. I mean, we have the entire human persona stored in a server that Amadeus pulls from, so it's been a rather difficult task to get it to forget the mundane things that we forget about. Reading Steiner is the act of 'forgetting' - in a sense. We haven't been able to establish if Reading Steiner will overwrite the brain data that I stored on our servers. So this operation is two-fold, Assistant of mine."

Okabe began to play the fearless leader he always played. Acting as if he was ready to jump into the fray despite the task seeming mundane. At this point, Kurisu was entranced, hopelessly awaiting Okabe's solution.

"One," Okabe put his fingers up to signal the step they were one. "You establish whether or not Amadeus will 'forget' just like I will, or if it will retain the memories I formed throughout the course of my life since 2010. Two, you, my potential other self, and the children will use the knowledge gained from this endeavor and develop the means to merge or reveal hidden memories in myself. This will be the true defense of my theory. Can we use mathematics and science to accurately form the basis of information retrieval in the brain, can we apply that to Amadeus, and lastly, can we apply it wholesale to a human being?"

Kurisu found herself nodding along before another, more efficient thought popped into her head. "If we establish that your memories are safe within Amadeus, can't we just re-overwrite you?"

Okabe stared at Kurisu. She could feel his eyes pierce her very being as he eyed her. She backed away a little further down the railing, slightly intimidated by the look on Okabe's face.

"It is absolutely imperative that this does not happen, Kurisu," Kurisu felt cold with the way that Okabe referred to her. "I simply cannot overstate just how vital my other self was in saving you. Without him, we would not be standing here. He deserves a chance to see the worldline we fought for."

With that said, Kurisu began to notice the tremble in Okabe's hands. She looked up at his face and could see the coldness begin to waver as his eyes began to water.

"I'm not going to lie to you," he said. "I am incredibly scared of what's to come."

Okabe grabbed onto the railing as if he was losing balance in his legs. He brought his blanket up to his face to pat away the tears that were forming in his eyes. He did his best to calm his breathing and tackle his anxiety the way he usually did when his trauma overloaded him. His eyes closed and he looked down as he continued to bring his breathing back to a more calm level.

"The prospect of not remembering any of this terrifies me," he said. "I don't want to forget. I don't want to forget the memories I made with everyone. I don't want to forget the moments you and I shared. I don't want to forget the little miracles that we brought into the world. And yet I have to rely on chance and mad science for things to go right."

Kurisu tenderly approached Okabe from the railing and wrapped her own arms around his now hunched frame. She rubbed his arm and rested her head on him. He looked up at her from his position, a shine in his eyes. He adjusted himself to put his forehead up against hers. Then, a kiss. It was tender, done with so much care that was capable of lifting of her feet. It was soft, almost like any sense of force would mean certain death. They stayed with their lips locked, their eyes closed. Okabe wrapped his arms around Kurisu's waist while she wrapped hers around his neck.

Then, Okabe broke the kiss and enveloped her in a full hug, his chin now resting on her shoulder. "I can only find comfort in the certainty that my other self will love you just as much as I do. My love for you will never change no matter what memories I may have."

Had Kurisu not been hugging Okabe, she would have swooned.

"I love you , Okabe Rintaro," Kurisu responded. "I'm sure if I had Reading Steiner like you, these feelings would be the same no matter what worldline."

They continued holding onto each other, never daring to break the hug, lest they lost each other. It remained tight, but comfortable. They stood there for what seemed like an eternity. The wind blew gently, but it wasn't enough to cool down the warmth that Kurisu felt in her heart. She swore she could hold this position with him for eternity.

"Besides," she said after a while. "Maybe the switch won't happen. And we'll have worried about all of this for nothing."

She felt Okabe tighten his arms around her very briefly until he took a deep breath and softened his hold, like a non-verbal acknowledgement of what she just said. She smiled towards herself as she kept her head to Okabe's shoulders. Then Okabe quickly broke the hug with an even sharper inhale. He held her at arms length and stared at her, his eyes losing their shine and the look on his face now being one of fear.

"Kurisu?"

His usually calm breathing was much quicker. All Kurisu could do was look back at him, tears forming once more. She refused to believe that anything happened. She could feel her lips trembling as she listened to the person before her speak his next words.

"What...?" Okabe looked at her incredulously, then quickly began snapping his head in different directions as if trying to get a feel for his surroundings. "What happened...? Why are you crying?"

At first it was her lips that trembled, but now she felt her whole body shake as she began to lose her composure. Before she could let herself do that, she had to speak.

"Okarin..." she said. "Please tell me you're kidding... please."

She watched him through her blurry vision as his face contorted into all sorts of worried expressions. It was the next words that he spoke that made her wish that she was still dreaming.

"Oka...rin?"

The Rintaro Okabe of Steins Gate - her Okarin - had been overwritten by another.

Chapter Text

Date: August 21, 2025 5:59:33PM JST

Divergence: 1.123581β

Time until Operation Skuld: 11 years, 2 months, 23 days.

Rintaro Okabe was surrounded by the whirring and beeping of the time machine's controls. After his confident monologue announcing the beginning of Operation Altair, all he could do was sit and contemplate while the Kerr black hole tracer was coming to life. Everything he worked hard for had been building towards this moment — the dispersal of the video D-Mails to the past, the retrieval of Mayuri and Suzuha, and the eventual — hopeful — shift to the promised worldline. Yet he didn't know what to do. On the one hand, he was more than glad to lay down his life so that the version of himself he sent the video D-Mail to could reap the reward of their combined work. On the other hand, he desperately wished to see the results of his hard work all the way through.

"How much time have I lived through?" he began speaking to himself within the time machine. "Through how many worlds have I traveled?"

He recalled his experiences in the Alpha worldline. The endless summer he spent trying to rescue Mayuri was probably enough to last years if not decades. Years of the same exact day, watching his childhood friend fall victim to the horrible reality that was Attractor Field Convergence. He also recalled the endless time-leaping he did in this worldline as he attempted to make his way back from 2036 all the way to 2011. The horrors he had to experience, all of it just seemed endless.

"Numbers too great to count," he finally reasoned. "So much that the sky and stars became blurs. But no matter what, I always had you there with me."

That's right. There was one bright spot through it all. Even in the Beta worldline, he still had her support all the way until this moment. No version of her — real or digital — existed for the past 14 years, but she was there in his endless traversal through worlds. She was there to push him through it all when all hope seemed lost. She was a massive reason why Valkyrie was standing where it was today.

"I always had your smile to reassure me."

He thought back to the fateful August day where she re-instilled hope in him. As he sat on that bridge, watching her do her best to bring him back into his more spirited self. The smile that escaped her lips when he took her hand. It was still freshly imprinted on his mind. But all roads led to the end of those three weeks spent together. On the cusp of saving Mayuri, he finally realized what it would mean if he followed through on saving his childhood friend. He may have been able to save one person, but it would cost him the person he grew to cherish most dearly. He thought of what she said on that rainy day they spent in the Future Gadget Lab.

"'I'm fine, so...' On that day, you smiled gently and left me with those words. An event so very, very long ago that it almost feels like a lifetime has passed."

He began speaking to her as if she was there alongside him. "Those words rest with me even now. Not once have they faded from my mind."

The imprint that day had on his hippocampus could never be overcome. It was the night they finally revealed their true feelings to each other. Somehow, despite the fact that he had gotten to know her for far longer than she had known him due to the nature of his Reading Steiner, she returned his feelings and then some. For the briefest of moments, he even forgot the whole purpose of why he was even fighting so hard to change Attractor Fields to begin with. It was in these moments that he was able to see her mask slip.

"I knew all along. That was your gentle lie to me. A lie far too selfless, all so that I could continue onwards."

The act of being the hero and making the sacrifice is something that is very easy to fantasize about. But when one is met with the opportunity to make the actual sacrifice play, it is finally realized why it is called a sacrifice to begin with. Yet, despite the human nature of wishing to avoid death bearing down upon her, she still pushed him forward.

"I could tell even then that you were lying, but I clung to your words regardless. I placed everything on them."

It was all at the cost of her life. Her life that was far too precious to ever let go. Her life that he took with his very own hands when he was transported into the Beta worldline. That day was also one he could never let himself forget. The regret that poured into his heart was enough to overcome any sense of duty he had to save the worldline from the World War III that Suzuha initially warned about.

"Nights spent wailing with grief. Winters spent writhing in agony. No matter how the seasons passed, no matter how blessed I was by people's kindness, there forever remained one regret that would gnaw away at the back of my mind."

Even now, he was inconsolable with regard to what happened on that day in 2010. He remembered all the things his friends tried to do in order to rescue him from his state of despair. A state of despair he was in for someone they didn't even come to know in the Beta worldline. A person who was so kind, so selfless, but whose light was snuffed out far too early and far too unfairly... by him.

"Of course, I already know," he could imagine her protests. "I know that you'd never blame me for what happened."

That was just who she was. The kind of person that she was was a thousand times greater than the person he could ever hope to be.

"Even so," he began reasoning with the her that he imagined. "Within that endlessly repeating time, the weight of the sin I bore... it never faded, not even for a second."

He recalled the time after that fateful July day. The pain that stopped him from acting — from saving everyone else — was too much for him to bear. He didn't realize what was important to him then.

"But now..." his breathing hitched as he continued his recollection. "Now, having crossed those innumerable worlds, I've finally become aware of their importance."

They were the ones who saved him from himself in the end. Their importance to him was just as impactful as she was.

"Wandering blindly in the dark, having lost my bearings, on a journey to an unknown destination. Those who stood by me and supported me through it all. My precious friends... and of course, you."

The more he spoke, the more he was beginning to cement his choice. His comrades and her were all that he fought for, never once thinking for himself. But now, that was all he could think about.

"You know, my feelings for you never faded," he admitted. "No matter how much time has passed."

He felt like a coward. To give up for the amount of time that he did despite his feelings for her. It was his feelings for her that didn't allow him to try again, but hindsight proved that if he did without having the knowledge that he had at that current moment, it would all lead to renewed failure. He was glad he decided to start fighting again at the time that he did.

"Because everyone was always there for me, because 'she' gave me a push on the back, and because 'you' were right here with me too, I am able to move onwards once more."

That's right, "she" was there even though it wasn't exactly her. Much like her original counterpart, "she" sacrificed herself in order to change the world's structure. An A.I., capable of human emotion — capable enough for him to see her in "her" even though "she" was just an assortment of 1s and 0s that contained her memories. He could also never forget the version of her that existed on the Alpha worldline. Despite his wishes to stay, she pushed him forward, reminding him of the reason why he left Alpha in the first place, staying by his side in memory alone.

"The 'you' living on inside my heart gives me courage even now."

Frankly, he was scared of this mission. He did his best to not show his fear to the other members of Valkyrie, but manning an experimental time machine in the year that he was supposed to perish was not a comforting notion. Nevertheless, he was willing to persist because he had "her" pushing him along.

"'Pull yourself together already'," he let out a small chuckle. "I'm sure you'd be saying something like that to me right about now. I wouldn't blame you. After all, I feel the same way."

He imagined himself arguing with her once again. "But you need to understand. I can't bring myself to let go of those memories."

It was these memories that spurred him on. Without them, the version of him that was sitting in that time machine would not exist. If it were not for those memories — the memories of that endless summer, of her murder, of the time he spent with "her" — nothing of what was happening with the Future Gadget Lab, with the time machine, and with their efforts to save the world would ever have happened. It's because he didn't allow himself to let go of his memories for her that anything was possible.

"All the tears that were shed, the blood that was bled, all those feelings left unsaid — I wasn't able to let go of a single thing."

The Kerr black hole tracer was ready, a beep bringing his attention to the controls once more. He began to understand exactly what he wanted to do.

"That's why I've decided to aim for it once more," determination crept across his face. "That's right. The 'Gate'."

He began inputting the coordinates to disappear into space-time. Once within the boundaries of the black hole generated by his own machine, the tracer would be capable of pinpointing the time that Mayuri and Suzuha got stranded in. As he did, he continued.

"The 'Gate' which exists in the gap between past and future, between miracles and fate."

He began thinking again about the dangers that plagued his mission. Not only that, but the dangers that would come about if he decided to pursue his own goal following the retrieval of his hostage and the Part-Time Warrior.

"It may well take me another few lifetimes in order to achieve this. It may be that I need to traverse countless more worlds. Regardless, I don't care. There's not an iota of hesitation left within me."

The time machine whirred to life, beginning the countdown that he had been dreading up until this moment. Ten seconds of uncertainty, greeting him to a fate that lied outside of convergence.

"I've steeled myself. No matter how many times it takes, no matter how many worlds I cross. I'll make it there for sure."

He had to say what he planned aloud. It was as if he didn't, it wouldn't come true. "I'll be able to 'begin' once again."

He didn't care what it took. Even if Operation Skuld failed - even if they needed to try again, Steins Gate was going to become a reality. "That is my... that is our choice."

He was certain that this was the belief that he shared with the countless other versions of him that got to this moment. Especially the version of himself that sent him the "Deceive the world" D-RINE in 2011.

"So I don't need your gentle lies anymore," he softened, thinking about potentially being with her again. "Please, wait for me. Until the day that we can meet once more."

He didn't know when it would be. He didn't know what would happen if Operation Skuld succeeded to begin with. Would the version of himself in Steins Gate continue being close to her? He was sure he would keep the feelings he'd grow to have on the Alpha worldline, but could he follow through on them?

"Until the day that begins our new 'past', and our new 'future'. Wait for me."

The time machine reached the end of its countdown, prompting the Kerr black holes within it to begin their spin. He could feel the immense gravity that bore down on him, threatening to split his head open. It was a little more intense than the Gs that he felt in Suzuha's time machine all that time ago, cementing just how experimental this time machine was. But now, he was uncaring.

He was going to rescue Mayuri and Suzuha no matter the cost.

Arrival Date: 18000 BCE

Okabe gripped the sides of his seat in the time machine. He could feel every crack, snap, and general bending that the hull was going through as it was being affected by the gravity of the black holes it generated. When designing the time machine, the process that was most feared by Okabe, Daru, and Maho was the generation of the Kerr black holes. If it was overtuned, the black holes would not be contained by the time machine's apparatus and would rip it apart, killing the passenger inside. If it was undertuned, the time machine would not be able to escape from the dimension of space-time it would travel into through their generation. It was an exact process that couldn't exactly see proper live-testing due to how dangerous it all was.

After what felt like hours of being crushed by the Gs he was being put through, everything finally came to a halt. Okabe sat still, watching the readings on the screens as the machinery around him died down. He couldn't believe his eyes when the readings were finally spit out by the computer. Geographically-speaking, he was still on the island mass that formed the nation of Japan. However, the clock, which now only had the computational ability to calculate the time of his new location by the year read 18000 BCE to him.

The white numbers that were on the screen stared at him. He was incredulous - he was twenty millennia in the past. Did humans even populate these islands by this point? He eventually shook off his incredulity. It didn't matter what era they were in, all that mattered was the retrieval of the two lab members who intended to sacrifice themselves for the sake of Operation Arclight. It was time to bring them home.

He pushed another button on the time machine's console, prompting the hatch to hiss and begin unfolding itself outwards. As it began opening, a ferocious cold swept into the time machine, introducing Okabe to the harsh elements of the world he currently inhabited. The hatch was completely opened, revealing the darkness that surrounded him. If the Kerr black hole tracer was correct, then Mayuri and Suzuha couldn't be far, but he couldn't make out any recognizable figure or shape in the darkness. He sighed to himself, unbuckling himself from his seat and standing in the machine. There were two tasks that he was presented with: ensuring that Mayuri and Suzuha were secured and brought to the year 2025 to avoid altering any plans that led to the creation of Operation Skuld, and ensuring that nothing that he brought with him from the future was left behind in the past — including any hint of either time machine being there. When he initially began designing the time machine with Maho and Daru, he had them install a self-destruct feature that would transport the time machine into the dimension between time and space to be lost forever to all.

He never had any intention on going back to his present, being content with guiding his past self to the correct decision and allowing him to reap the reward for the combined efforts of every other version of himself. However, as the operation date came closer combined with the conversation he had with himself prior to his departure, he slowly convinced himself to see the worldline shift for himself to ensure that nothing failed. He had considered the implications of Reading Steiner — all the memories he wouldn't have been able to make because the version of himself that was bound to complete Operation Skuld would be totally overwritten. What would those around him think? Would it even be possible for him to adapt to the circumstances? From a certain standpoint, it was a selfish desire to see the worldline shift all the way through, but Okabe just considered the whole process as him being thorough to ensure the arrival of the promised worldline.

His mind then returned him to Kurisu. She made her sacrifice not knowing the full extent of her actions - entrusting Okabe with her fate. How come he couldn't do the same? What would she think if they were indeed close and he ended up overwriting the version of himself that she got to know and share parts of her life with? He himself had only spent the summer of 2010 with her as well as a couple more months with Amadeus. Would it even be worth going through the pains of trying to re-adjust to a normal life by her side? Despite the massive speech to himself that practically convinced him to pursue Steins Gate for himself, the thought of Kurisu's disapproval continued to haunt him. He would give everything up to observe the worldline shift into Steins Gate all just so that he could see her for himself. But having thought about it more, how could he go? She was capable of letting herself die in order to save Mayuri, the least he could do was allow another version of himself to live on. The thought of meeting her as he was now and being rejected by her would only serve to worsen the pain in his heart that was born from the void she left behind.

"What a rollercoaster of emotions," he chuckled to himself. "I wonder if you felt like this on that day."

What he would give to get into her mindset the day that the worldline shifted from Alpha to Beta. Did she have these constant mental battles with herself? Though as he recalled, her mental fortitude must have faltered as she burst into the lab mere moments after Okabe irreversibly made the decision to move onto Beta. Perhaps he would have to make an irreversible decision right now that his own mental fortitude was at an all-time high.

He grabbed the quantum battery that would help revive Suzuha's time machine to let her go back to the future. It was small thing. So much technology and so much computational ability all in the space of a rectangular prism that fit perfectly in his labcoat pocket. He then eyed the machine's self-destruct button which was right next to the hatch. Pressing that button would practically seal his fate and cement his sacrifice; pressing that button would mean that he would not be able to see Kurisu; pressing that button would leave him all alone once he sent Mayuri and Suzuha on their way. He took a deep breath, feeling the anxiety of his choice getting to him. Flashes of Kurisu, Mayuri, Daru, and the rest of the Future Gadget Lab Members raced through his mind. He would be lost to them for the remainder of this worldline's activation and he wouldn't be able to see how they were holding up in Steins Gate. He extended his finger towards the button, fighting off the visions of possible regret he would have for making his choice.

He pressed the button, triggering the time machine's final 60-second countdown into the unknown dimension of space-time and made his way down the hatch, his resolve further steeled by the fact that he couldn't go back on his decision. The wind blew violently around him as he lowered himself to the ground, prompting his labcoat to billow wildly. The cold was sharp, stabbing him in his hands, face, and neck, but he didn't care. As he touched solid ground, he looked up at the sky. Since there was absolutely no light pollution at this time in human history, the stars showed themselves in full force. Okabe separated himself from the time machine, looking up at the starry night, admiring the view he would no doubt have until the end of his days - whenever they would be.

However, none of it could rival the spectacle produced by the technology of the 21st century. After the minute lapsed, the time machine began its disappearance into time and space. As if it were a final hurrah, a pale plume of time particles erupted from the machine, lighting up everything in its vicinity. It engulfed the ground around Okabe, bathing him in a shroud of time. The plume went so far up into the sky that Okabe could swear it could reach space. It was a sight to behold, one that he was glad he was witness to. Accompanying the spectacle was the fact that Okabe could clearly see his surroundings. Within moments, he saw the shape of Suzuha's time machine sitting on its side just a couple hundred feet away from him. Poking out of said time machine were the relatively small bodies of Mayuri and Suzuha, clearly having their attention be brought to the time machine's self destruction. The space between them was rocky and barren, but there was nothing truly stopping Okabe from reaching the pair. He began walking in their direction, seeing the faces of the two girls light up as they got a good glimpse of him.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, you two!" Okabe yelled out at them, a smile sneaking its way onto his face.

Mayuri and Suzuha couldn't believe their eyes as Okabe approached them. They had braced themselves for the possibility of losing him forever, but now he stood before them, a beacon of hope in the desolate landscape. Mayuri rushed towards him, her eyes welling up with tears, and embraced him tightly. "You made it, Okarin! I knew you would come back!" she exclaimed, her voice choked with emotions.

"You know me very well, my hostage," Okabe smiled as he returned Mayuri's embrace. "Not even fate would keep me from you."

"And you, Part-Time Warrior," Okabe extended his arm out to Suzuha who was still standing there awkwardly. "Very well done on your mission. I speak for your father and myself both when I say I'm proud of you."

All Suzuha could do was smile as she also went in to hug Okabe. "Thank you for believing in me Uncle Okarin."

For the first time in years, Okabe could feel himself overcome with emotion, though the only proof to show for it was the imperceptible quiver in his lips as he held on to both girls as tightly as possible. If there was anything he could do to make the moment last forever, he would have done so, but time continued to move cruelly and he would not allow himself to lose sight of his mission.

Mayuri looked up at the aged Okabe. While it may have been a couple of hours from her perspective, the years were evident on his face. She reached up to stroke his wrinkled, stubbly cheek.

"You've gotten so old, Okarin," she said. "You look tired."

"The years have not been kind since you both left," Okabe smiled weakly. "But none of that matters — all that matters is that I return you both to the future instead of this place."

With that, Okabe fished around in his labcoat pocket and produced the quantum battery in the palm of his hand.

Suzuha was quick to recognize it, her smile ever growing. Okabe offered the battery to Suzuha who quickly took it and went into the time machine to replace it.

Okabe then turned to Mayuri, "You both can no longer return to the time you departed. Everything has happened as planned and we cannot risk your return changing the outcome of events as they have unfolded."

Suzuha re-emerged to listen to Okabe's orders. "You will return to the date I left, August 21, 2025 at 6:00:42PM JST and continue working on Operation Skuld until we can send the younger Suzuha back to 2010 in 2036."

Okabe grabbed the coordinates of Valkyrie's base that the time machine would be able to travel to out of his pocket and handed them to Suzuha.

"Wait," Suzuha said as she received the coordinates. "Wouldn't I cause a paradox if I met my younger self?"

"Indeed," Okabe responded. "We are still unsure if that is actually the case, but we erred on the side of caution when planning for the eventuality of bringing you two home. We will do everything in our power to keep you two separated. That's not to say you will be isolated from everyone else, but you will be working from locations where we know your younger self will not be."

Suzuha tentatively nodded along with what Okabe was saying.

Very suddenly, the light around the group faded to nothingness as Okabe's time machine completed its one-way trip to the void. Even without the light, Okabe could quickly see the worry that planted itself on Mayuri's face.

"Where'd your time machine go, Okarin?"

Okabe sighed as he was forced to reckon with his own mortality. "It's gone. This was a one-way trip."

Suzuha's smile was quick to drop and Mayuri's worry only grew. Mayuri's mouth was agape at the prospect of what Okabe had just said.

"You mean you weren't planning to come back with us?" she clarified.

"This is the end of the road for me, Mayuri," Okabe said, his face awash with a calm grief. "You two will help usher us into Steins Gate. I've already done my job."

"Is this because you're already supposed to die in 2025?" Suzuha was the first to respond with a question of her own. "Is there really no way around your death?"

"There is a way around my death in 2025," Okabe explained. "I'm partaking in it currently. Rather than dying in 2025, I have simply disappeared from the worldline."

"Just to die here," Suzuha retorted. "I won't accept it."

This was a response that Okabe was sure to expect from Mayuri but not from Suzuha. Suzuha knew what it meant to sacrifice oneself for the good of the collective. She inadvertently nearly performed that sacrifice when she and Mayuri departed in 2011, not knowing that Okabe was going to rescue them in the end. He looked down at the soldier, trying to gauge her face, but he just saw a resolute firmness from her. Beside her, Mayuri also had her brows furrowed, staring intently at Okabe.

"It's a reality you will have to accept," Okabe said in spite of their refusal. "If Operation Skuld succeeds, I cannot be present or else the version of me who was able to reap the benefit of our success will be replaced by me."

He lifted his labcoat as if motioning towards himself. "That's the cruel reality of Reading Steiner. I cannot in good conscience rob anyone of the version of me they will have gotten to know. It would be 26 years of memories just erased in an instant."

"But Steins Gate was your dream," Mayuri said. "You told me that yourself. Why can't you be allowed to see it? If I was the Mayushii of Steins Gate, I'm sure I would understand."

"You're only saying that because you know this version of me, Mayuri. Try and imagine if another Kyouma suddenly replaced me and had none of the memories we made. How would you feel?"

Without pause Mayuri responded. "Mayushii would feel a little sad, but Okarin will always be Okarin no matter the memories he has and I would do my best to be there for him."

Okabe believed every word that came out of Mayuri's mouth. The quickness and tenderness with which she responded meant that she had thought about the possibility when she found out about his Reading Steiner.

Before he could respond, Suzuha followed up on Mayuri's words. "We need you there so we can be sure that our plan worked, Uncle Okarin. You're the only one who would be able to tell that we succeeded."

"But if we succeed, I take over the life of a man who deserves to enjoy his freedom."

"You deserve it just as much, Uncle Okarin," Suzuha continued. "You've come this far, you have to see it through."

Okabe sat still. It became very evident to him that there was nothing that could be said to get through to either one of the girls. He racked his mind more on figuring out the merits of his plan, but truly the only issue with seeing the shift to Steins Gate for himself was out of a sense of morality. He didn't want to rob himself of the memories he will have made on the worldline, and he much less wanted to rob his loved ones of the man they would have come to know and love. But what the duo were saying also revived the yearning he had to see Kurisu once more.

Almost sensing the quarrel that was going on within himself, Mayuri kept pushing. "Mayushii went back in time to save her Hikoboshi. I can't bear letting him die now."

"But—"

"How about this, Uncle Okarin," Suzuha stopped Okabe before he could reply. "Let's leave it to fate."

Okabe stopped to stare at Suzuha, intrigued by her suggestion. "What do you mean?"

"Come back to the future with us," she said. "If fate doesn't want you to see the shift to Steins Gate, you'll die before it happens. But if you stay alive through to the end, I think you've earned the right to see the shift for yourself."

Okabe pondered what Suzuha was saying as she continued trying to convince him. "Your knowledge could be of great use in the meantime. That way Valkyrie won't be hamstrung when trying to re-develop the time machine... well in this case, just outfitting this one with upgrades seeing as we'll be sending it back to the future."

Leaving things up to fate. The very thing that Okabe fought so hard against was now something he would place his life in. What Suzuha was saying made sense. As the founding member of Valkyrie and the only real person besides Suzuha to ride the time machine, his knowledge was vital to getting the prototype ready to chase down the wayward girls. Now he can use that knowledge to best prepare Suzuha to go back in 2036.

Okabe continued pondering, but the more the thought about it, the more he was swayed by the idea. However, he had to amend it in order to give himself the best shot without complicating things further.

"Okay, you both win," he said. "However, I will still not be returning with you."

The smiles that both girls' faces had when he started speaking vanished just as quickly when he clarified his point.

"You both will still return at the time and place that I laid out for you. If things work for the next couple of months following your return, we will be able to sufficiently fuel the time machine to return to this point of time and have Suzuha pick me up in 2026. You will not pick me up any sooner lest we risk convergence taking my life in 2025."

"But won't that mean you need to survive on your own for a couple months?" Mayuri asked.

"My dear hostage, it will be mere moments of a wait for me if all goes according to plan," Okabe answered. "Months may pass for you, but so long as you return to this point in time, no time will have passed at all for me."

Suzuha nodded in understanding. She re-entered the time machine and started plotting the course that Okabe charted for her. She also began noting down the time and date that they were currently in with the time machine's renewed (and more enhanced than the prototype's) capabilities from the restored quantum battery.

"Big Sis Mayu," Suzuha called out from the machine's cockpit. "Let's get going."

Before entering the time machine herself, Mayuri wrapped Okabe in a deep embrace once more, again reciprocated by the insane mad scientist. "Thank you so much for saving us, Okarin. You won't believe how happy Mayushii is."

"Wherever you go, I will always follow, Mayuri," Okabe stroked Mayuri's head. "What insane mad scientist would I be if I lost my hostage?"

They released their embrace, both smiling warmly at one another. He saw both girls off, waving at them as the hatch to their time machine closed. Just like his machine, the area became covered in time particles, allowing for yet another spectacle of light to engulf the lone man. Okabe stepped back from where the time machine departed, his labcoat billowing as the particles erupted from the machine. If he was certain that he was not going to return to his present, it would have been enough to move him to tears, a final tribute to the mad scientist's great sacrifice.

Just as quickly as the process started, it all stopped. The time machine moved into the dimension where time and space coincided and left Okabe in the darkness. Okabe took the time to analyze the desolate surroundings. It was all rocky and barren meaning that he was likely on a mountain range within the islands of Japan. He knew that this era of time was much too late for there to be any dinosaurs, but he wondered would it would have been like if they happened to be that far in the past. He imagined himself being chased by a T-Rex while he waited for his saviors to return and chuckled at the insane thought. He dared not move a step from his location to keep looking as he did not want to be accidentally crushed by a returning time machine. The wind was still as strong as it was when he first arrived and the cold he felt was enough to chill the bones. However, it was not enough to cool the warmth that he had in his heart. Even if Suzuha was unable to return to rescue him, he still completed the mission that he devoted nearly half of his life on. And besides, it would mean that Steins Gate would be able to retain the Rintaro Okabe that led the charge rather than the one that gave up. That in itself was a positive.

However, before Okabe could get too deep in his own thoughts, he heard the whirring and buzzing of an arriving time machine just as he predicted. He silently hoped that the months that followed Mayuri and Suzuha's return passed without incident, but knowing the state of the world that he left, he was certain that Valkyrie may have had to contend with a few issues.

The time machine fully materialized, visibly more weathered than when it initially departed, but Okabe could recognize that it was the same machine as it remained marked as "C-204". The hatch slowly opened and out popped the head of Suzuha who looked like she had only gotten younger since she left. Perhaps she was rejuvenated to have returned to a time where she felt more familiar with everyone and her part of the mission was effectively complete.

"Uncle Okarin?" she called out to the man standing at the bottom of the hatch steps.

"Well done Part-Time Warrior," Okabe said. "It seems like you have followed your instructions dutifully."

"Part-Time Warrior?" Suzuha asked. "What's that?"

She descended the steps quickly as Okabe was taken aback by her response. Before he could manage a reply, Suzuha wrapped him in a hug.

"It's been so long," she said. "I'm happy that this ended up working out."

Okabe was far too surprised to be able to return Suzuha's embrace. This Suzuha sounded younger and less battle-hardened than the one he just sent off.

"Suzuha," he said gravely. "What year did you come from?"

Suzuha released Okabe from the embrace, her eyes no longer meeting his as an apologetic look replaced the easygoing face that she had plastered on.

"I think it's for the better you hear from the people who are waiting for you back at home."

All this statement could do was confirm Okabe's suspicions, but he didn't want to believe it himself. The order he gave Suzuha was to return to him once the year struck 2026. If his suspicions were indeed correct, then they were way off the mark and things were worse than he anticipated in his present.

"Okay then," he said. "Let us be off."

Arrival Date: May 31st, 2034 7:30:16PM JST

Okabe eyed the screens in disbelief. It was a quiet ride because Suzuha herself didn't seem to want to talk to him. And having the time machine confirm it for him made everything click together. They were nearly 9 years late in retrieving him. He was gone from the worldline for nearly 9 years. It was a miracle that they even remembered to come back for him.

Suzuha, noticing the surprise from Okabe, could only manage an "I'm sorry."

"You're the Suzuha we intend to have complete the mission in 2036," he posited with certainty.

"Yeah," she replied, still apologetic. "This was our first test with the time machine since we re-assembled it. But again, I think you'd want to hear from everyone else about it."

The time machine powered down as it finalized its landing into the present — rather — future of the worldline. Suzuha pushed the button which unlocked the hatch and began unbuckling herself, prompting Okabe to do the same. The hatch hissed open, releasing smoke as it did so from decompression. As it opened, light slowly illuminated more and more of the time machine, temporarily blinding Okabe as he became very accustomed to low-light conditions. Suzuha motioned for him to exit the hatch first, wanting him to take the lead as the leader of Valkyrie.

As he exited from the time machine into the near-blinding light, Okabe heard with the sound of applause. When his eyes adjusted, he was met with the sight of all of his friends, all of whom were now 10 years older than him — barring Mayuri who was now similar to him in age. Daru, Faris, Luka, Moeka, Kagari, Mayuri, Maho, Mr. Braun, and many other people he had come to know over the course of the war effort all greeted him with wide smiles. Briefly forgoing his confusion, Okabe took the chance to play the brave leader.

"I have returned!" he announced triumphantly. "Fate may have done its best to keep Hououin Kyouma at bay, but I stand here as a living testament that not even fate is able to stand to the power of an insane mad scientist!"

Okabe laughed the cocky laugh that he always did when playing into the Hououin Kyouma persona. "Everyone, I am living proof that our efforts have not gone to waste! We stand two years away from the operation date and we are readier than we ever will be! You all have my gratitude for not forgetting about me in the years that have passed since I departed, but fear not! For with my return, we can now resume getting everything in place for Operation Skuld!"

He put on the best show that he could with the limited information and feelings of panic. To have been delayed for so long in his return just made him a man out of time just like in the previous worldline where he had the mind of an 18-year-old in a 44-year-old body. A man who should have been 42, was now only 33. He was unsure just what would happen if he survived until the shift to Steins Gate. Would he shift into an older body? Would he cease to exist altogether? Time travel is not meant to exist in Steins Gate, so there would be no way for the version he would overwrite to also be a man out of time. He racked his brain as he descended from the hatch more speedily to meet with all of his friends. It may have only been moments for him, but he understood that it was close to 9 long years since they got to see him. He had two more years to figure out the problem, so he wouldn't let it get in the way of his reunion.

The first two to greet him were his closest confidants leading to his departure in 2025. Maho looked a little more haggard than before, eye bags and the occasional gray hair on her head. Her face still was very gentle and, at some angles childlike, in spite of it all. Daru on the other hand continued to slim down, following the regiment that the older Suzuha placed on him. Though, in spite of his new fitness, his face was also much more wrinkled than before.

"Welcome back, Okarin," Daru was the first to speak, his voice a little deeper than before.

"Yeah, welcome back fearless leader," Maho followed, a smirk on her face. "You know, for someone who has found themselves in a foreign time and place, you sure know how to give quite the embarrassing speech. Any other reaction out of that time machine and I would have doubted you were the real deal."

"Silence Hiyajosephina," Okabe retorted. "Anyone who dares imitate the great Hououin Kyouma will merely be a cheap knockoff that can easily be spotted by the most untrained eye. I expect my lab members to quickly distinguish the real deal from fakes anytime the opportunity presents itself."

"...and I'm already tired of this conversation," Maho sighed.

All three sat in silence, staring at each other. A tension formed between all three of them, though Maho and Daru were both emitting most of it. They stared at Okabe, shaking, trying to hold back what they had.

Until Maho broke first, letting out the laugh that she tried so hard to stifle. Soon after, Daru broke out into laughter, not being able to contain himself after Maho started laughing. All Okabe did was smile, having once again won the standoff that the three of them would usually have.

"It's so good to have you back, Okarin," Daru said as his laughs began to die down. "Say hi to everyone else and then we can talk, okay?"

Okabe nodded in agreement and made his way through the room to his intended check-ins. Having gotten his bearings, Okabe could very easily tell that they were at a brand new location that he didn't recognize. It was much smaller than the other operation centers that Valkyrie used in the early 2020s. The likely reason for the downsizing, Okabe suspected, was because the new government forces were ramping up their operations to hunt down Valkyrie and take the secrets of the time machine. This was likely the last corner they could be driven into given they fully re-assembled the time machine — a gargantuan task that would take months to carefully disassemble and many more to put back together.

His first stop, naturally, was Mayuri. He sent her back to the year 2025 with the older Suzuha, so she had practically caught him in age. And what a fine young woman she had grown into. She carried herself with poise, her hair was only slightly longer, and there was something far gentler in her demeanor than ever before. She had on a long dress, complimenting the motherly gentleness. He smiled as he approached, glad that, in spite of the harshness of the world, it didn't seem like it was anywhere near enough to break Mayuri. He dropped all pretenses of formality and enveloped Mayuri in a deep hug.

"I'm so glad you're here," he said, his face buried into her shoulder. "I'm sorry I'm late."

Mayuri rubbed Okabe's back as she returned his hug. "It's not your fault Okarin. Things happened which got in the way of rescuing you, but I'm just happy that my Hikoboshi's come back after all this time."

Okabe looked down at Mayuri, still holding his embrace. "Time has been kinder to you than me, my precious hostage. It's difficult to believe you're near the same age as me."

Mayuri giggled at Okabe's compliment. "Mayushii's doing her best with the circumstances."

He smiled warmly and turned his attention to the person who was gripping onto the hem of Mayuri's dress. She was imperceptible when he first approached, but now he could actually see her.

"And you must be Kagari," he knelt down to meet the tiny redhead face-to-face. "It's nice to meet you."

The girl immediately shrunk back further behind Mayuri, intimidated by Okabe's aura. Not to be deterred, Okabe remembered something that he had shamefully forgotten he was entrusted with. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a green Upa with wings and a leaf crown — the very same fairy Upa that the older Kagari had trusted him to give to Mayuri when he first departed. He was so caught up in his emotions that he forgot all about it, but when he presented it to the little girl, he could see her face light up even more than Mayuri's and Suzuha's did when they were first rescued.

She extended her hand for Okabe to place the Upa in and thanked him. Mayuri laughed softly and patted Kagari's head before beckoning Okabe to meet with the rest of the lab. Okabe slowly made his way through each of the original Future Gadget Lab members in the order of which they were inducted into the lab, starting with Moeka. Each and everyone expressed their most sincere excitement at the fact that he was back, Faris even going so far as to throw herself into him just to punctuate just how dire things looked without him. The only lab member that was missing was the older Suzuha, something he could understand since the Suzuha the Younger was currently present in the lab talking to her father. Though, he recognized a figure that should not have been present at this point in time. Yuki Amane, also laughing and praising her daughter for a job well-done. Yuki Amane, two years removed from the year in which she was supposed to perish according to Suzuha.

How the hell did she survive her own death date? he wondered.

Finishing up his rounds, he quickly returned to Daru and Maho who were waiting for him expectantly.

"Okay. Fill me in."

Date: November 14, 2036 5:54:32PM JST

Divergence: 1.123581β

Time until Operation Skuld: IMMINENT

Explosions wracked the interior of Valkyrie's final facility. Each one getting closer as the New Government forces began breaching and clearing every room that they ran into, trying to locate the time machine. Rintaro Okabe, Maho Hiyajo, and Itaru Hashida were finalizing the preparations to send the time machine back into space-time as everyone else who was left eyed the two security doors that were the last thing separating Valkyrie from the outside world.

It was a tumultuous two years since Okabe returned from his trip to 18000 BCE. To develop and refine the fuel needed to power the time machine, Valkyrie needed to plan out raids on the government's fuel silos when they were at their most unprotected. Okabe had to be a part of extensive scouting operations alongside his best soldier, Luka Urushibara, to be able to determine when and where to hit the New Government where it hurt. It was about the same thing he did when they were trying to develop the fuel to power his prototype time machine in 2025, but having been hit multiple times due to Valkyrie's needing the fuel to rescue him, the New Government was especially careful. It was on their final mission that one of the operation members was tagged by New Government forces, leading them all to where they were at in the current moment.

Okabe cursed to himself as he began pumping the last bit of fuel they had left to send the time machine to the past. It would only really be enough for five or six total jumps which meant that Suzuha had to be perfect in her fulfillment of Operation Skuld. Besides saving Kurisu, Suzuha was also responsible for acquiring the IBN5100 in 1975 then jumping to 1998 to use the code that Daru had developed to stop the Y2K bug from disrupting the global network. Only then, could Suzuha jump to 2010 to finish the operation and, hopefully, make the worldline shift to Steins Gate.

He wished that the older Suzuha was still alive to provide pointers on what to do when Suzuha the Younger went to the past. However, there was a trade-off that occurred while Okabe was in 18000 BCE. Suzuha, knowing when and where Yuki would be killed by the New Government, took her place and sacrificed herself so that her mother could live. It was a trade-off that convergence allowed and, according to the younger Suzuha who met her older version after having been fatally wounded by the New Government drone, it was a trade-off that the older Suzuha was willing to make ten times over. Now, the only person who remained from the previous iteration of the future was Kagari who, by this point, was trying her best to lead the New Government forces away from the lab with the help of Luka and Moeka.

"Listen well, Suzuha," Okabe said as he disconnected the fuel pump from the time machine. "You will stay vague on the parameters of the mission once you arrive in 2010. If things go as they should, the past version of me will fail the same way I did. Only after he fails will he be able to receive the D-Mails we sent to the past."

Okabe dropped all pretenses of fun nicknames. They were now in a race against time to get Suzuha to the past. His usually easygoing fearless attitude now one of panic and rushed sentences. Now that his fate lied outside of the claws of convergence, he didn't know what day would be his last and this one most definitely felt like it.

Suzuha, who was inside the time machine inputting the final coordinates replied with a "Okey dokey!"

Another explosion shook the very core of the complex, shaking dust from the ceiling. The static chime of Okabe's radio brought his attention to his labcoat pocket where he had it stored.

"This is Warrior Actual!" the frantic voice of Luka Urushibara accompanied by machine gun fire emanated from the radio. "Kyouma-san do you read?!"

Okabe fished the radio out of his coat pocket as he rushed over to the computer terminal alongside Daru and Maho. He began inputting his end of the calculations that would assist in the initial generation of the Kerr black holes. To account for movements in space-time, fuel-load, and the size of the passenger, the parameters required for perfect generation were vastly different from what was required when he was sent back in 2025.

"Copy Warrior Actual, proceed," Okabe briefly spoke into the radio as he continued his work.

"We've been cornered! We sent M4 ahead to reinforce HQ."

Okabe's eyes widened as Luka spoke. He sent the elder Kagari, Moeka, and Luka together with a reasonable amount of manpower in an attempt to halt the New Government entirely, but it seemed like the New Government was going for broke in taking the time machine. He looked over at Daru and Maho who silently nodded, understanding his wordless plea. With their acknowledgement, he left his spot at the table and began speaking into the radio.

"Warrior Actual, do you need more men to bring you back to us safely?"

"Negative!" Luka was interrupted by more gunfire. "These men will not make it out of here alive. You have my word!"

"Wait, Warrior Actual, what are you saying?"

Okabe felt his heartrate, which was already elevated from the stress of the raid, quicken even more. His heart was making its way into his throat with each passing second.

"We set up a plan to collapse a part of the facility and take out as many forces as possible," Luka explained. "As it stands, we're pinned down and in the radius of the blast zone. If we want to buy you more time, we need to do this."

More gunfire. Okabe froze in place, understanding what Luka meant. He was reminded of his first time being in the year 2036 when Luka died in his arms. Once again, he would be forced to kill the young man who only wanted to be of use to the lab.

"Do what you need to do Lukako," Okabe spoke into the radio, dropping the callsign that they used up until this point.

"Uncle Okarin!" the radio chimed once more, but this time the voice belonged to Kagari. "Please be sure to take care of Mama in Steins Gate!"

A tear formed in Okabe's eye. Everyone was laying down their life for this plan that was not guaranteed to succeed. They were sacrifices that he hated making, but knew he had to make nonetheless.

"May we meet again in Steins Gate, Kyouma-san," Luka said. "Warrior Actual, out."

On cue, a much more massive explosion shook the facility to the very core. Okabe looked around as the faces of the remaining lab members were contorted with sadness. Nonetheless, they all continued their work in the same hasty manner as before. They couldn't afford to let themselves be caught up in the moment. Such was the cruelty of the world. Such was the importance of the mission that they tasked themselves with.

The members that weren't armed or actively assisting with the time machine were tasked with comforting the very few children that were left in their care. The person heading that operation was none other than Mayuri. Despite the fear and anguish that she no-doubt felt, she never let her smile waver and stayed as strong as she could in front of the children. He watched as Mayuri's own child, Kagari, gripped her fairy Upa with both her hands and prayed with it, emulating the same way that Mayuri would usually pray in tough times.

"The calculations are complete! We need to make use of the time that Luka-shi bought us or we'll never be able to get Suzuha out of here!" Daru yelled from his computer.

Relief seemed to be the very next emotion that everyone was invaded with. A very brief respite before the entrance to the room's doors burst open and a bloodied Moeka Kiryuu fell through them.

"We... we need to move!" she tried her best to collect herself as she crawled up onto her feet sing whatever means she could to regain her balance. "Many... followed me."

"You heard the woman!" Okabe was very quick to regain his sense of urgency. "Suzuha! Remember the mission! Our way to Steins Gate is now squarely on your shoulders."

He was sure that Suzuha didn't need the added pressure, but it was the truth. Everyone gathered in front of the time machine to wish Suzuha luck for her part in the mission. No one could have their individual moment, so everyone spoke to Suzuha in a cacophany. However, Okabe was certain that the only words Suzuha heard were from her own father.

"No matter what, just know I will always be proud of you Suzuha. Get us across the finish line!"

Suzuha smiled warmly. "I'll see you in Steins Gate everyone!"

With that, the hatch to the time machine began to close. The remaining lab members soon lined up in front of it, partly to form a barricade, partly to just be as far away from the door as the time machine was on the opposite side of the room. Maho stood on one side of Okabe, while Mayuri with Kagari flanked him on the other.

"Do... do you think this will work?" Maho asked, her eyes locked onto the door where even louder bangs were emanating from.

"We must have faith that it will," Okabe replied. "And if by some twisted work of fate that it doesn't, we can always try again in another worldline."

These were cold words of reassurance even by Okabe's standards. He knew just as well as everyone else that the "next try" would not include the people they are at the moment, but the people they will be in the worldline influenced by Suzuha.

After a couple moments, the time machine began its trip into space-time, but at the same time, the distance between the New Government and Valkyrie had closed to nothing. The doors burst open as a squad of about 14 fully armed soldiers flooded into the room and surrounded the members of the lab. Moeka and the other armed Valkyrie members who hadn't joined the rest of the lab were hidden in the corner next to the doors and immediately opened fire. It was enough to dispatch the 14 before they got a shot off, but just as quickly, even more troops surged through the doors and overran the armed members of Valkyrie, killing each and every one of them including Moeka.

Maho immediately grabbed a hold of Okabe just as every other lab member began hugging their loved ones: Yuki and Daru, Faris and Nae, Mayuri and Kagari - each lab member who still lived was accounted for. Suzuha's time machine was beginning to dematerialize - they were successful, but now it was a matter of whether or not Operation Skuld was enough to bring about Steins Gate. Okabe hugged Maho tightly, bracing for the swarm of bullets, but they never came. Instead he was met with the all-too-familiar splitting pain in his head as his vision warped into an incomprehensible mess.

"Please work!" he screamed as loud as he could before the blur engulfed him completely and his consciousness was sent across worldlines.

Date: November 14, 2036 2:00:13AM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

When Okabe regained consciousness, he let out a silent gasp as his body unconsciously resumed its brace for the impact of bullets. The first feeling he had was the fact that the body of the person he was hugging was no longer the tiny form of Maho Hiyajo, but someone taller. As much as the embrace felt comforting, he had way too much on his mind. He needed to make sure that he was able to escape the hell of the Beta Attractor Field without accidentally landing themselves into the Alpha Worldline again. His whole life depended on it. He took a peek at who he was holding onto and red entered his vision. Almost immediately upon confirming the color of the hair that he saw, he rapidly broke the hug to confirm just who it belonged to.

"Kurisu?"

Lit by the dazzling lights of the cityscape behind him, Rintaro Okabe could see the face of the woman he loved so dearly. Despite her face being marked by age and her still-vibrant chestnut hair being at shoulder-length, she was just as he remembered. Her violet eyes shone brightly as her cheeks were wet with tears. He saw her lip begin to tremble, sparking all sorts of irrational thoughts to stir within him. What happened before he got there? Was this another version of the Alpha Worldline where they just found out about Mayuri's death? He tried his best to shake his thoughts, but they flooded him. In spite of this, he dared not voice his suspicion, he could not. Instead, he went for a direct approach of trying to figure out what happened.

"What...?" he started looking around him to ascertain his environment. Nothing about it screamed "dystopian hellscape", but there was nothing he saw that could totally disprove his theory either. He turned back to Kurisu who looked almost inconsolable now "What happened...? Why are you crying?"

Slowly, and yet so painfully, Okabe watched as Kurisu's demeanor cracked even more at his question. It must have been something severe if she was reacting like this. While emotional, Okabe had only ever seen Kurisu exude this level of what looked like heartbreak once before — when she discovered her father's true feelings and psychotic desire to murder his own daughter.

He wanted to reach out to her — to comfort her and tell her that everything was okay. But how could he tell her any of that when he didn't even know what was going on? He stood watching helplessly as the woman he loved tore herself into pieces right in front of him.

"Okarin..." she sobbed. "Please tell me you're kidding... please."

All of his thoughts paused. Not once when he was in the Alpha Worldline had Kurisu Makise ever remarked him as anything other than "Okabe". This woman had all the features of the woman he loved, but so did Kagari when he first found her as an adult in the Beta Worldline. Was this the same situation? Was she upset because she was called Kurisu? Does this woman think that he's cheating on her with another personn named "Kurisu" and that's why she was crying? His mind raced a million miles a minute, yet not a single conclusion was reached. He let the words slip from his mouth.

"Oka...rin?"

He stared deliriously at this woman, now unsure of whether or not it was Kurisu. A flash of recognition spread across her face when he let his incredulity slip, completing her descent into inconsolable sadness as she crumpled to the floor, her mouth covered by her hand. Almost immediately he rushed to her side as her fall seemed rather violent. He looked into her eyes with as much earnestness as possible, but the eyes that looked back were those that remarked a stranger. Much worse, an intruder. He was already at this point, so he figured the consequences of this next question would pale in comparison to the knowledge he'd gain.

"You... you are Makise Kurisu... righ—?"

He couldn't even finish his sentence before a sharp pain met his left cheek. A slap unlike any other he received now blistered his face. A slap from the woman in front of him whose sadness transitioned to rage.

Just what had he done?

Chapter Text

Date: August 4, 2012 12:53:12AM JST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

“...isu!” Kurisu Makise felt like she was being shaken from a horrible dream. “Kurisu!”

Kurisu shot up in her bed to the feeling of a hand on her chest. Her chest was heaving as she tried to get her breathing under control, sweat was pouring out of every pore in her body, and most notably, tears were leaking down her cheeks. Her head snapped to her right towards the origin of the hand that quickly retracted itself from her chest the moment she sat up. There, in bed next to her, was her boyfriend with a gaze that managed to pierce her very being.

“What…” Kurisu’s hairs were on end as she felt watched by more than just Okabe. “...What’s wrong…?”

She scanned the room, trying to remember what caused her to feel that way. Mid-scan analysis, her thoughts led her to what she dreamt about. All Kurisu could remember from her dream was that it was about her father. She hated dreaming about that man with every fiber of her being, but every now and again, she was reminded of just how much he mentally scarred her. 

She watched Okabe adjust himself to sit up with her - he himself was shirtless - and there she was reminded of just how dangerously close she was to dying by her father's hand. Two years removed from that fateful July day, there was still a patch of skin on Okabe’s belly that was discolored from the rest. That patch of skin was his sacrifice to save her from her father. When paired with the dream that she could hardly remember, guilt began to replace her nerves.

“That should be my line,” Okabe replied, his voice rasping her ears due to the graveliness of it. “You were crying and whimpering in your sleep.”

Kurisu’s cheeks flushed at the revelation of what she was doing in her sleep. Despite dating Okabe for nearly a year, much of their relationship was long-distance save for when they first started dating and the winter break when she visited him, so there was still plenty of discomfort showing that kind of vulnerability to the guy. Her guilt quickly gave way to embarrassment as she immediately went on the defensive.

“W-What were you even doing awake?” she helplessly tried to redirect the conversation. “Don’t tell me you were being a creep and just watched me sleep.”

To drive the point home, she brought the covers up to hide her chest. She was wearing a t-shirt - his t-shirt - but without her bra and with the near-translucent nature of the white shirt, there was a tad bit more exposure of her chest that Okabe could have ogled at if she wasn’t careful.

“You’re being so infantile, Christina,” Okabe retorted, his throat beginning to clear. “I’ve already had my fill of your naked body a couple hours ago. Or have we forgotten all about ‘Make me yours, Kyouma-sama~!’?”

Whatever was left of Kurisu’s face that wasn’t red almost instantly became so as she recalled the earlier part of the night. Granted, Okabe exaggerated his high-pitched tone as well as the fact that she called him anything other than “Rintaro”, but the rest was right on the mark - and the shame she felt as she recalled what didn’t sound cringey in the moment was enough to heat her face up to the nth degree. The nerves in her arm fired up in response, making her unconsciously take a swing at Okabe’s chest in the form of a backhanded slap. Okabe yelped at the onset of her attack, but overall it had no effect on him, proven by the impish grin that spread across his face as he rubbed his chet.

“You can’t just make me say that kind of stuff just so you can use it against me!” she protested, the volume of her tone matching the sheer amount of mortification flowing through her veins.

“ Make you?!” Okabe cackled. “My oh my, Assistant of mine, I believe those words came out of your mouth of your own volition!”

Kurisu sucked in her breath. She hated that the man was right. She especially hated (though not really) that he got good enough in bed to put her in such a compromising position to begin with. When they first started sleeping with each other, he had no sense of rhythm and was particularly selfish in reaching his own climax - a virgin in every sense of the word. However, as they spent more nights together and had more sessions, he very rapidly discovered his form and she found herself experiencing bliss so much more often than not - a sense of bliss that was capable of making her blurt out things she was naturally too embarrassed to say. All she could do was continue arguing.

“‘Christina’ this, ‘Assistant’ that!” she latched onto a new point to argue. “You do know those aren’t proper pet names you give to a significant other, right?!”

There was some actual frustration in those words. For the year that they dated, Okabe seemed to be rather avoidant of calling Kurisu anything remotely close to something lovey-dovey. He always resorted to the same childish nicknames that he assigned her when they met for the first time after he rescued her. She tried dabbling in pet names for him, but nothing really flowed smoothly out of her mouth besides his actual name. There were even times where her brain almost slipped and she would call him “Okabe” because that was all she would ever call him on the lead-up to them dating. Whenever Okabe regarded her with those dumb nicknames, though, she usually made it a point to ignore him - or hang up on him if they were on the phone (this time was an anomaly given the nature of the situation), but it seemed like the man never got the hint.

Okabe opened his mouth, ready to push even more of her buttons. However, before he could, a loud banging on the wall behind them interrupted him. A disembodied voice followed the banging, yelling “Shut up!”

Kurisu never realized how loud they were until the voice brought them back to reality. They were currently staying in the usual hotel that Kurisu booked whenever she visited Japan. It was relatively luxurious, a queen bed that faced a flatscreen TV, a smoothly carpeted floor, a full bathroom complete with a bath and shower, and a corner table with a wooden chair where she could do her work. The hotel was right down the street from Akihabara’s train station and a couple of blocks away from the Future Gadget Lab - a perfect place to be especially with the air conditioning it provided in the heat of summer. Of course, that meant that she had to contend with her own set of noisy neighbors every now and again in rooms next to hers. Never before had she considered herself the noisy one until tonight; even the times she slept with Okabe consisted of grunted whispers and stifled moans. Kurisu was glad that she got her first noise complaint for arguing with him rather than getting laid by him.

“And here I was afraid we’d never get back to the original point,” Okabe was quick to seize the opportunity in a more hushed tone. “Are you okay?”

Whatever deviousness his face contained when he was arguing with her vanished, replaced by a earnest, yet gentle look of concern. She didn’t like it. Every single time they argued, there was always an emotional switch-up he did that made her weak to him and his advances - this was one of those times. She simply humphed, sliding back down into bed from her upright position and turned away from Okabe. If she didn’t see him or hear him out, she wouldn’t feel like a schoolgirl discovering her first romance (though this was actually her first romance). She needed to be in control.

Okabe followed her down, wrapping his arms around her, and cuddled her as the big spoon to her little spoon. She wasn’t actually mad at the man so she had to fight every unconscious urge to shake him off. She actually enjoyed being held in this way by him. They simply laid there for a few moments. Kurisu could feel Okabe’s warm, comforting breath against the nape of her neck as she backed herself into him. She felt the skin of her uncovered legs touch his since both were in their underwear - even with the air conditioning, it was still too warm to sleep any other way. In response, he wrapped his arms even tighter around her, the environment set for her to finally fess up.

“I had a dream about my dad,” her soft admittance was nearly imperceptible even to herself, yet somehow she knew that Okabe would hear her. “I don’t remember the specifics, but I know any dream I have of him is basically a nightmare.”

“I could assume as much,” Okabe’s voice was loud and clear to her, given that his mouth was right next to her ear. “There was a ‘Papa’ that escaped your lips mid-whimper.”

“How long did you watch me for?” Kurisu hissed as her head snapped to the side, trying to peer at the Peeping Tom behind her.

“Not long,” Okabe replied. “I’d say only for about a minute since I was sound asleep myself. Once I heard you call out for him was when I tried shaking you awake.”

Kurisu let her head fall back to its place on the pillow. She was beyond upset. When she returned to America after spending July, August, and September of 2010 in Japan, her mother rushed to get her counseling. Try as she might to fight the reality of what happened, her counselor was quick to diagnose her with PTSD once she revealed the extent of the breakdowns she’d have if there was anything that reminded her of her father. It got to the point where she had to take an extended leave of absence from the Neuroscience Institute because the thought of doing anything science-related brought him to the forefront of her mind. It wasn’t until the summer of 2011, shortly before the trip to Japan that made her and Okabe official, that she was able to push herself to return - the thoughts that placed themselves at the forefront of her mind shifting from her father to Okabe and the rest of the Future Gadget Lab. She didn’t know if the things Okabe did to make it so was purposeful, but regardless she was beyond thankful to him for helping her recover the passion she very nearly had stolen from her by her father.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” Kurisu grumbled. “I thought I’d be over it by now.”

“That’s a rather impossible expectation you’ve set for yourself, Assistant,” there Okabe went again with the nickname she hated. “I think where you’re at now with your mental state is highly commendable. It’s not a common occurrence to have a father you looked up to try to kill you.”

“Your tactlessness astounds me, Rintaro,” Kurisu clicked her tongue, breaking free from his clutches and turned to face him. “I’m surprised you managed to fit something nice to say in between that stupid nickname and a reminder of my trauma.”

“But look at you,” he said. “You’re able to talk about it and not a single tear is being shed. Remember how often you used to break down when everything was still fresh?”

He was right. As annoyed as she was about his response, annoyance was all she felt. Had he made a similar comment to that when she was still newly into her counseling, she would have turned into a sniveling mess. Now that she faced him, she could see the shine in his eyes as he spoke. His hair, having been washed, succumbed to gravity since he was on his side - the dead of night and the early morning were the only times Kurisu ever saw him without his hair slicked back. The way he looked at her made his sharp features somehow appear much softer to her, a softness she was glad she could now admire openly since they were a couple. Her attention was mainly brought to his two-day-old stubble. She cursed her drunken 2011 self for exposing just how much she liked it, recalling the audacity she had of throwing herself on top of him and rubbing her face against his. However, now she had less shame for her admittedly weird attraction to the prickliness of Okabe’s face. 

She let air blow out of her nose, choosing not to respond to her boyfriend. Instead, she put her right index finger on his cheek, rubbing it across his face to get a feel for his stubble.

“Your fascination with my stubble is incredibly odd, Christina,” Okabe’s mouth moved, making her lose track of her position on his face. It upset her that he broke her concentration, so she started back at where she initially placed her finger.

“Just shut up and let me do this. You should feel lucky that a woman like me is attracted enough to you to touch you like this.”

He snorted a chortle, but relented and let her do her thing.

She let her focus stay on his face for as long as it took to be able to feel the prickle of all of his stubble, but eventually her gaze, along with her finger, slowly went down his torso towards his belly where the scar was. The skin that made up the scar was rough to the touch compared to the rest of his body. It was about 13 centimeters long and 8 centimeters wide, a scar that did not belong to a knife wound. She only found out through prudent questioning that the reason why it was so big was because the idiot dug his hand deep into his already-open wound to cover her with his blood. He claimed that it was a necessary step in saving her, but neglected to tell her any more besides the fact that he had to travel through time to do it.

“I suppose the alternative to lying here complaining about my trauma would be a grave and a tombstone,” she sighed, continuing to caress his scar. “Thanks for deeming my life worthy enough to travel through time to save.”

Okabe’s hand cupped her chin as he gently raised her head to meet his eyes. He peered intently into her very core, but rather than feeling exposed or scared, Kurisu felt tranquility flood through her body, and the world around her began to move in slow motion. For this very brief moment where she got  lost in the dazzling universe that dotted Okabe’s brown eyes, Kurisu felt the most seen she had ever been. Yes, she had her counselor, she had her mother, she had Maho, she even had Professor Leskinen if she ever needed to simply talk about her trauma. However, deep within her heart she somehow knew that the only person who could truly understand her was this man who held her gaze and all of her soul with it.

“If it meant saving your life, I would travel through time as many times as it takes,” the initial raspiness of his sleepy voice gave way to a resonance that got Kurisu unexpectedly excited. “I’ve decided that the only world I want to live in is one with you in it, my love.”

The tranquility that Kurisu felt was quickly replaced with warmth. A warmth in her heart as she processed what exactly Okabe said; a warmth in her womanly core as she processed how exactly he said it. Hearing those words flipped a switch within her. Every feeling she felt in the initial waking moments of the night almost instantly evaporated. The only feeling that remained was a want for him . 

She closed her eyes and the distance between her lips and his disappeared within an instant. The kiss started off gentle, but Kurisu very quickly made it clear that she wanted it to be anything but. Okabe was completely caught by surprise by the sheer ravenousness with which Kurisu made out with him. This surprise allowed her to break the kiss momentarily and push him onto his back to climb on top of him. She straddled his waist and ripped off her t-shirt before she dove back down onto him, feeling his other head begin to make its presence known to her as time went on.

“You just know exactly what to say and when to say it, don’t you, you jerk,” she growled in between kisses. “This is your fault.”

A breathy grunt forced its way out of Okabe’s throat. Using the time in which she broke the kiss to scold him, he forcefully swapped positions with her and pinned both her arms over her head with just one of his hands. With her fully pinned down, he began to attack her neck, sucking on her most sensitive spots, which sparked even more electricity to course through her body. Kurisu initially limited herself to gasps, but luckily for her, her boyfriend was conscientious enough to cover her mouth with his free hand, allowing her to moan as freely as she wanted into it. She was being pushed completely over the edge as Okabe switched targets from her neck to her chest. Kurisu began to squirm, louder moans escaping her mouth only to be suppressed by Okabe’s hand. She felt her lower half hunger for so much more that it was becoming absolutely unbearable for her to hold off any longer. She needed him. Much to Okabe’s chagrin, Kurisu managed to push him off of herself, but quickly gave him more to be excited about as she moved to slip off her underwear. As if he knew exactly what she wanted, Okabe removed his hand from her mouth, tossed the covers aside, and lowered his position so that his face was level with her lower half. He helped her take her panties the rest of the way off and, much to her delight, he began to explore her with his tongue, forcing her to stifle the sounds that squeaked out of her with her own hands.

In the back of her mind while they began their second round of the night, Kurisu thought that perhaps the easiest way to get him to call her things like “My love” was to reward him each time he did so with an experience that she found equally pleasurable - a win-win situation for her. These thoughts were only at the back of her mind, though, as the thoughts that dominated the rest of it were simply the many sensations that flooded her synapses thanks to her astonishingly ravishing boyfriend.

Date: November 14, 2036 2:02:08AM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

The sounds of the city swept the already-confounded Rintaro Okabe into a whirlwind of stimuli. The woman before his eyes glared at him with contempt as he tried to center himself around this new worldline. All he got for his initial discovery efforts was a cold, hard slap to the face from someone who he could only consider to be close to him. His heart was in his throat as he was still completely in the dark regarding the situation of the world. At any moment, he could be ambushed and taken in by the New Government or even SERN. He needed to analyze his escape routes before such a situation arose.

He first ran over the railing that overlooked the unrecognizable cityscape before him. His gaze trailed down the side of the building, looking for ledges or fire escapes that he could potentially use if he was forced to jump. There was nothing viable that he could use as a first-case solution, but if push came to shove, there was a fire escape about 5 floors below him that he could land on at risk of injury. His head quickly snapped back to the door that led out to the rooftop, completely glazing over the now very concerned woman on the ground. The doorway was small, only really allowing for two people side-by-side to enter at once. With rifles? There was no possible way more than one person could fit through it, so barricading it was a top option. His scan then quickly took him to the rest of the rooftop for places he could use to hide. There was the occasional air-conditioning tower, small plants that formed a sort of blooming rooftop garden, and some lawnchairs. There was absolutely nowhere for him to hide unless he used the darkness to his advantage.

"What... what are you doing?" the woman on the floor called to Okabe in the middle of his stupor.

"I can be ambushed at any time," he responded, now switching his search to looking for potential traps. "I need to be ready for them."

"’Them’?" The woman's confusion was quick to knock Okabe out of his current focus. "Are… are you actually making a joke out of this by using The Organization?"

The Organization. That name being uttered brought him back to the days before he got wrapped up in time travel - days of innocence that he sorely missed. The earnestness with which the question was asked brought some relief to Okabe. Had he heard a mention of either SERN or the New Government, then his suspicions would have remained on high alert. With his heart no longer in his throat and his ability to think rationally returning, Okabe could only make the fairest assumption since jumping into the worldline.

"So you are the Kurisu of Steins Gate," he murmured, tension working its way out of his shoulders. "It worked."

Relief immediately flooded the rest of his body, bringing him to his knees. His tormented breathing quickly turned to tears of joy as he let his emotions fully take hold of him. Thousands of time leaps, years of war, and multiple near-death experiences outside of the realm of convergence finally gave way to the promised worldline.

Kurisu watched him intently from her own spot on the floor. Her own emotions were short-circuiting as she didn't know what to think or feel. There, crying on the floor beside her, was a man who - until this point - was her husband. However, the sheer weight she could feel drop off his shoulders when he confirmed that he was on Steins Gate allowed her to envision his suffering so palpably. She knew the gist of her husband’s suffering in the recurring loops of the Alpha Worldline, but this man carried the trauma of those loops plus whatever he went through in the Beta Worldline to put together the plan that saved her life. She wanted so desperately to resent this man, but all she saw when she looked at his face was her husband. She saw the way his eyebrows crinkled; his stifled sobs; the way the tears clung to his eyes, never daring to fall down his cheek no matter how emotional he was; every mannerism just in this display of emotion was the same as her husband's. It brought a pained smile to her face just being able to see flashes of her husband even though he was now gone.

She decided to take advantage of the fact that her emotions were stuck in a state of confusion so that she could get the answers that she needed. Only then, perhaps, would she be able to grieve. She got up from her spot on the floor, her blanket still draped over her shoulders and approached the man who was barely recovering from his own emotional outburst. He watched her with what seemed like a mixture of worry and admiration, not knowing exactly what she was going to do. Having closed the gap and looking down at him, she extended her hand out to him.

"You made it to Steins Gate, Okabe Rintaro," she said, breathing out whatever shakiness was left in her voice. "Let's get you inside and we can talk."

Okabe grabbed Kurisu's hand and let her guide him back into the building. Many questions still swirled in his head, but at the very least his most important ones were answered and Kurisu seemed intent on helping him clarify whatever was left. He now knew he was in Steins Gate; he knew that Kurisu immediately could tell that he came from a different worldline - and based on her initial reaction, she seemed to have been dreading it; he knew there were no outside forces to worry about in this worldline of peace. That was all he could ascertain on assumptions alone. The rest was reliant on how well the woman who was leading him by the hand down the stairwell that led to the roof would be able to shine a light on the less obvious things he didn’t know.

They got down to the 22nd floor, three floors below the rooftop. The hallway of the 22nd floor was lit, a permanent thing so that no other apartment dwellers would injure themselves on the rough pale stone that made up the walls. Every 10 feet or so, the stone wall was interrupted by a steel door with an RFID sensor serving as the lock and the number of the room lasered just above the door's peephole. They started at 2201 and Kurisu continued to guide Okabe until they reached 2216 at the end of the hall. If they turned left, there were many more doors that were uncountable, but Kurisu stopped at this corner room which had no other room near it. She fished out a keycard from her pocket and scanned it on the RFID lock, eliciting a beep that prompted their entry.

Once they walked through the entrance hallway where they took off their slippers, Kurisu turned on the lights and Okabe felt like he was transported into a completely different world. The apartment was massive : right next to the entrance was the kitchen which contained an 8-burner stovetop resting atop an oven - a kitchenette which was encased in a black, marble-like table. At the right-hand corner of the half-square kitchen was the sink and dishwasher which themselves were rather big compared to what Okabe was used to. White drawers and cabinets filled in the gaps between the oven and dishwasher. Then, even more cabinets adorned the wall above the half-square, only being broken up by the big fan that sat above the stovetop. Embedded into the wall just to the right of the sink was the refrigerator. And that was just a small part of the kitchen! The majority of it was a rather large, black island table, long enough to fit four chairs. On it were some papers and bags, but they weren't strewn about - rather they looked like projects waiting to be continued.

And the floor! Oh the floor. While the kitchen and entrance hallway were adorned with a skin-toned tile that extended out to just behind the island, the rest was a near-spotless off-white carpet. Okabe could feel his toes instinctively curl as he stepped on the insanely soft carpet that extended down the hall to his right and into the living room just ahead of him. Kurisu chose to continue towards the living room.

The living room itself felt just as spectacular to Okabe as the kitchen. It was the closest to the wall opposite the door and, to his amazement, the blinds which Kurisu raised revealed the very same cityscape he saw from the rooftop, immediately prompting the thought of, Just how can we possibly afford this?

The assortment of the living room was what could be described as family-style. A dark brown couch that could comfortably sit four people along with two small tables at each end of it sat on one wall; a flatscreen TV was hooked into the opposite wall. To the left of the couch was a tan reclining chair, but what caught Okabe's eye was the rather large dark-colored kotatsu that sat squarely in the middle of the room. It was this kotatsu that Kurisu beelined for, getting herself seated on the side facing the TV and covering her legs with the futon. Okabe, still staring at everything around him and trying to get a bearing for the room, let his eyes scan the walls. They were adorned with framed pictures of them and friends, certificates, and on a shelf on its own at head-level right next to the hallway entrance, he could make out two Nobel Prize medals and diplomas encased in a glass box.

"Oka...rin..." Kurisu attempted to call for Okabe's attention, accidentally using the name she already promised herself she would only use to refer to her husband. As a creature of habit, it was nearly impossible for her to keep this promise.

"You know," Okabe started, shifting his attention from the trophy case to where he would sit in the kotatsu. "I would have never fathomed you using that nickname for me."

"It's not a nickname for you," she snapped defensively as he sat across from her. "It's a nickname for the man you replaced."

"The man I 'replaced' being Okabe Rintaro," he jabbed back with an unnecessarily haughty retort. "In other words... me."

Okabe watched Kurisu's brow furrow in frustration. Yes, by Kurisu's standards, he wasn't the same man. He saved her and lived a long life with her from 2010 all the way to 2036, undoubtedly making countless memories - memories that he no longer had access to. However, if there was one thing he learned in his jumps across Alpha and Beta worldlines, it was that the emotional core of a person stayed the same no matter the experiences they went through. Working by those standards, then he could very well be the same man.

"So, how do you want to do this?" Okabe didn’t know what tone to take with the woman before him, but he landed on frankness. "I'm sure we both have questions that need answering."

Kurisu looked back at him in equal earnestness. "We can trade off by asking a question and then answering the next. I'll start."

Before Okabe could get any word in, Kurisu immediately volunteered herself to ask the first question. Though he expected it based on what he remembered of her, there was a part of him that still needed to get used to speaking to the woman whose voice he nearly forgot after countless years.

"Why?" It was an accusatory question, but Okabe furrowed his brow, not knowing what was meant by it. Kurisu acknowledged his expression and expanded her question. "Why did you wait this long to overwrite yourself?"

Kurisu’s violet eyes pierced through Okabe, stripping him down to his very core. He was tasked with grappling with the question while sitting there feeling exposed to her. Yes, given the choice, he would have very quickly jumped at the opportunity to overwrite himself the moment that the Steins Gate Worldline came into fruition in 2010. However, with the way Operation Skuld needed to play out, he had no choice.

"Actually..." he then remembered that he did have a choice back in 2025. "For a long time, I didn't plan to see the shift into Steins Gate."

Kurisu leaned back, her eyes telling him that his answer was not in her list of possibilities. This was a reaction that beckoned an explanation. And thus, he provided one. He told her about what happened in the Beta Worldline, specifically how much of the development of the first time machine was centered around the rescue of Mayuri and Suzuha. He told her about his plans of leaving himself to die in the distant past, but then got convinced by the girls to at least try fighting to see the worldline shift. His main goal switched to ensuring that Operation Skuld was successful, but in that goal, he lost sight of the repercussions that would come with the operation's completion - the total loss of 26 years of memories. He berated himself, opening up about his last day on the Alpha Worldline where the Alpha version of Kurisu, in spite of the fate that awaited her if the worldline shifted to Beta, was able to sacrifice herself for his sake. He lamented over the fact that he couldn't do the same and fight his own selfish desire to see the worldline shift.

"You were far stronger at 18 than I could ever hope to be," the bitterness he held for himself made itself apparent. "I'm sorry my own weakness caused this."

Kurisu, gripped by the way this version of Okabe told his story, felt a pang of sadness in her heart. She never expected him to own up to what he did as quickly as he did with the remorse he showed. This man had a human desire to see things through - an obsessive desire that her husband was very well-known for was what caused all of this to happen. She hated that every few seconds she saw her Okarin from within this Okabe. Naturally, her instincts to comfort him kicked into high gear once she saw him hang his head.

"Hey, hey," Kurisu reached across the kotatsu and propped his chin up with her fingers. "That is not your weakness. It's your greatest strength. I'm here, alive and breathing, because of that strength."

All Okabe could manage was a shy smile as the warmth of her hand connected with his face. The Kurisu Makise he knew was an obstinate tsundere, so this level of comfort he - a stranger to her at best - got from her was nowhere near expected. He took her hand and set it back down on her side of the kotatsu. As far as he knew, he was currently undeserving of the care she showed.

Kurisu's lips thinned as she took her hand back. In spite of everything that reminded her of her husband, this man wasn't him. Her brain recognized this, but her heart ached seeing the shell of the person she loved reject her attempt at comfort. She kept it together as best she could. If she allowed herself to get emotional, she would run the risk of waking up their children and being forced to explain the situation to them while she was still grappling with it.

"My turn," Okabe began his own question, his mood slightly improved. "Have I..."

His voice trailed off as his eyes flitted toward the wall behind Kurisu that contained many happy framed pictures of the couple. His gaze then landed on what he could only assume was their wedding photo - him in a black shirt with a white jacket that had a rose pinned into it, and Kurisu in a beautiful long-sleeved white wedding dress with her veil lifted over a small gold circlet. "...Have I been good to you?"

Kurisu's tears nearly leaked out of her the moment he finished his question. Of course he was! I couldn't have asked for a more perfect man, s he thought. However, an answer like that would not have sufficed for someone who knew absolutely nothing. Okabe, on the other hand, tried to keep himself from fidgeting as this was the main question on his mind the minute he confirmed that she was indeed Kurisu.

"I don't know how much you know about what it was like for me growing up," after some contemplation, Kurisu slowly formulated her answer. "I was always chasing my dad, yearning for his attention whether it be through challenging his theories, or creating my own to debate with him. He made me fall in love with science and, for a time, that love for science was only kept alive by my desire to show him how much of a good girl I was."

Okabe ensured that his attention never fled elsewhere. He allowed himself to be gripped by Kurisu’s story even if it was a conversation they already shared in the Alpha Worldline.

"When he... when he showed me just how much he actually hated the things I did to get his attention, I almost gave up on science. But Okarin... Okarin was the one that saved me... in more ways than one."

Okabe felt stabs in his heart each time she referred to "Okarin" as a different person from him. Despite the pain her story began to put him through, he let her continue.

"He brought me to the Future Gadget Lab after everything that happened, showing me all of the silly gadgets and inventions that he and Daru cooked up. He challenged me on different topics of physics and neuroscience just for the sake of arguing with me. He couldn't be considered any better than a child... but only he could revive the childlike wonder that I lost over the course of my time at Viktor Chondria and the issues I had with my dad."

Okabe thought back to the time Kurisu was first vulnerable with him on the Alpha Worldline. Much of the same was said - the Future Gadget Lab, unlike her professional lab in America, was just fun to be in.

"Not once did I ever yearn for Okarin's love and attention - he was always there to provide it. Not once did he make me feel disheartened with how I approached different theories - he just encouraged it. Not once did he ever let me feel like I was alone. In every sense of the word... Okabe Rintaro saved me."

Kurisu looked up, seeing the pain in Okabe's eyes despite the soft smile he wore. "But he couldn't have done it without you. He only recently told me what exactly transpired when he saved me at Radio Kaikan, but he gave you all the credit for pushing him to try."

"I devoted my whole life to it," Okabe said, his voice small. "The main goal behind everything I did was to save you, Kurisu. I'm beyond happy that I was able to guide myself toward the right path in saving you. But I'm just as sad knowing that you don't see me in spite of the memories I have."

"I don't know all the details of what you went through in the Beta Worldline," Kurisu quickly fired back. "But just the summarized version you gave me is enough to tell me that what you experienced will have developed a different person from the Okarin who loved me with all his heart for 26 years."

"You think I don't?" The severity at which Okabe snapped at Kurisu surprised her. "For just over two decades on this worldline, Okabe Rintaro loved you dearly. For what could have been just over two decades on the Beta Worldline, I put myself through unimaginable horrors because I loved you dearly. You - on a worldline where many merely considered you a genius scientist taken away from the world in the prime of her life - were my universe... the obsession I chased through countless loops."

"If there was ever a time where I faltered - where I thought about giving up, I just thought of you. The way your lips creased whenever I annoyed you; the way your voice would go up an octave when you started explaining a theory you were excited about; the way your eyes shone as bright as the stars themselves when you recounted the fun things you did with Mayuri. I chased you across worldlines, nearly getting myself killed multiple times in the process, because I could never let myself live in a world without you."

Kurisu’s eyes widened, recognizing the exact same thing she heard many years ago and felt tears begin to work their way down her cheeks. Her mind was then brought back to her husband's final words before being overwritten. She recalled the surety with which he stated that the strength of his love would never falter regardless of the memories he had. The man before her was inadvertently proving his hypothesis correct beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Tears also welled into Okabe's eyes as they darted back and forth across the kotatsu, never meeting Kurisu's gaze.

"And now that I have you here with me..." his voice faltered momentarily. "...You don't see me."

"O-" Kurisu tried to speak, but Okabe cut her off once again without intending to.

"I can never atone for what I did to you in coming to this worldline. Forcing you to live with memories that I can't recall... it's a fate I could never wish upon anyone - much less the woman I devoted my life to. It seems like, for once, my Reading Steiner had adverse effects for everyone involved."

Okabe never noticed it, but his hands must have been clenched atop the kotatsu. The only reason why he even began to feel them relaxing was because Kurisu placed her own hands over his fists. All he could do was look up and he was met with the sight of a Kurisu whose cheeks were stained with tears, but had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen in his life.

"I see you, Okarin..." her face contorted as she was hit by waves of grief and happiness. "I see you for who you truly are."

Okabe wanted to be happy, but he was just stuck in a state of shock and guilt. From his point of view, Kurisu might have just been trying to make him feel better, but the rawness of her emotions quickly debunked that theory. He fully unclenched his hands so that he could interlock his fingers with hers. For a couple moments, they sat there, hands clasped together in complete silence while Kurisu worked through her feelings.

"To think that the strength of your love and attentiveness could span across worldlines like that," she laughed, freeing up one of her hands to wipe her tears.

"Well, you were the one that initially proposed the theory," Okabe admitted. Much to his surprise, Kurisu cocked her head, not knowing anything about what he meant.

"Okarin— you made me promise to never get involved with anything related to time travel after what happened at Radio Kaikan," Kurisu nearly referred to her husband as a separate entity again, but she did her best to recover. "Wherever you could, you kept the whole matter of worldlines to yourself."

"That makes sense," Okabe nodded. "I'm sure I didn't want to run the risk of you turning into someone that could accidentally pull us back into the Beta Worldline. But for the purposes of this story, let me tell you about the last night we spent together in the Alpha Worldline."

From there, Okabe told Kurisu everything that happened on that day. How he sought her out at the Radio Building after finding out that the final step in the process of returning the world to the Beta Worldline was to sacrifice her. He found her on the rooftop and they talked about her death and the weird feeling of déjà vu she got when she came across the room she died in. After a matter of weather-related incidents, the closeness they shared pushed him to keep trying to find another way that didn't involve sacrificing her, but she stopped him before he could time-leap away. It was in this conversation that she proposed that perhaps there were multiple different copies of her across multiple worldlines whose minds and feelings connected to form a singular "her". While it may have just been something said to help the both of them cope with the difficult decision, both Okabe and Kurisu now believed that perhaps there was a truth to her Alpha version's comforting words.

After a few moments of digesting the story, Kurisu finally spoke. "Thank you for sharing that story, Okarin. Just a small glimpse like this tells me just how much you struggled in that worldline. I'm sorry I was such a driving force for your pain."

Okabe shook his head vehemently. "Nonsense. We're here now and that's all that matters."

After a couple more moments, Kurisu completely released her hands from his, ready to bring up a topic that she didn't know how he'd react to.

"Before your memories were replaced with those of the Beta Worldline," she started slowly. "You told me of a potential way to recover your memories of this worldline without completely deleting who you were from the Beta Worldline."

Okabe listened intently, surprised at how much thought his past self put into this process, yet ecstatic to know that there was perhaps a way to be that person for Kurisu once more.

“You didn't know exactly how it was supposed to work," Okabe's excitement quickly plummeted at Kurisu's admission. "But the one lead you gave me was with regard to Amadeus."

Kurisu was about to explain what Amadeus was to Okabe as she didn't know if he ever came across it in the Beta Worldline, but before she could get a word of explanation out, he followed her train of thought.

"Did I ever back up my memories into Amadeus?"

So he knew. Just what happened on that worldline?

She nodded. "As recently as two months ago."

"Do we know if the memories of Amadeus are affected by Reading Steiner?"

"That's what he wanted to find out."

Okabe smiled, prompting Kurisu to smile. They were both on the same page, much like they usually were for the past 26 years.

"Can we check right now?" Okabe asked. "There's an app for it, right?"

"There is," Kurisu sighed, "But we put Amadeus under scheduled maintenance until 6AM while Daru ensures the firewall is operating at peak efficiency. Someone once hacked into the server back in 2010 and deleted everything we had, so we don't ever want a repeat of that."

Okabe grimaced at the thought of Amadeus' deletion. The only reason why the firewall was cracked was because they gave Daru's past self the key to override it and delete everything related to the project. It was a necessary step in ensuring the completion of Operation Arc-light, but he couldn't imagine the grief and frustration that Kurisu and Maho went through in this worldline.

Seeing just how lost in thought Okabe was over an innocuous statement, Kurisu prodded further. "You don't happen to know anything about what happened in that time, do you Okarin? I mean it was so long ago..."

Okabe felt a bead of sweat form on his brow as the heat in the room intensified due to Kurisu's gaze. "I... uh - I don't know what you're even talking about..."

She caught him. "Spill it. It was forever ago and you helped us perfect the project. It'd be silly to hold a grudge."

"If you say so..." Okabe eyed Kurisu carefully as he explained exactly what happened and why it needed to happen. At first she did seem very angry and ready to go back on her word, but once he explained the reasoning, she calmed down and nodded her head.

"See? That wasn't so hard," Kurisu let out a satisfied smile.

At that Kurisu yawned, then looked at the time which read 3:06AM. "Gosh it's getting late. You must be tired too, no?"

"Now that the adrenaline from the initial jump is wearing off, my body feels like it's relaxing for the first time since 2011." Okabe followed her lead and yawned, stretching his arms upwards as he did so.

"Then, let's be off to bed," she said. "Shall we?"

She got up and out of the kotatsu and extended her hand to Okabe to help him out of it.

Okabe hesitated. "Are you sure you don't want me to sleep on the couch or something? As I am now, I'd just be a stranger in your bed..."

"You are my husband ," Kurisu said for the first time out loud. "Just because you don't recognize it doesn't mean that I don't either."

Okabe smiled at just how well Kurisu was taking things in stride. Perhaps being 44 and not 18 allowed her to have a better handle on her emotions. Or perhaps the hope that she retained for getting his past memories back kept her in good spirits. For now, he wouldn't know, but he was more than happy to oblige her. He grabbed her hand, letting her guide him towards the hallway, however before they even took three steps, she abruptly came to a stop.  Following her shocked stare in the direction of the hallway, he saw two heads stacked atop each other poking out of its entrance. Both heads had chestnut hair and dark-colored eyes, the one on the bottom looking more feminine than the one on top. He stared at them and they stared back, almost as if analyzing him down to the way he stood.

"Reina, Haruki!" Kurisu hissed in English. "What are you two doing up?"

Okabe sat confused. He could understand and speak English since that was the common language used to communicate with other rebel factions in the wasteland of the Beta Worldline, but why the switch from Japanese? Who were these children to them? American nephews that they had to take care of? Kurisu's long-lost siblings (though she looked WAY too old for that)? He did his best to figure out what their features reminded him of, but he was drawing a blank.

"We heard a whole lot of movement earlier and then you came back and started sniffling Mama," the girl responded in English, her voice sounding like a young Kurisu's.

Mama ?

"But most importantly," the boy got out of his lowered spot to face the two squarely.

He was a lanky kid who still seemed to have room to grow. As he stood, he was about a head shorter than Okabe. His voice was also on the deeper side, meaning he was knee-deep into adolescence. Reina joined her brother, revealing her own height which was about half a head shorter than her brother - slightly taller than her mother. The way she carried herself reminded Okabe so much of Kurisu when he first met her. They wore near-identical PJs, though the main difference was that Haruki's pants were a blue plaid while Reina's were more on the pink side. And while Haruki seemed content to merely wear a t-shirt as his top, Reina went a step further and had on what looked like a gray blanket that acted as a poncho.

Okabe regarded them both, feeling familiarity form deep within his stomach, but he couldn't quite place where exactly the feeling was coming from. He waited while Haruki seemed intent on pausing for dramatic effect.

"What's this we're hearing about Papa losing his memories?"

It all finally clicked.

On the Steins Gate Worldline, the Okabes were the parents of two teenage kids. For the first time, his Beta Worldline self met Reina and Haruki Okabe, otherwise known as Amaterasu Kiyoko and Arakawa Masamune - the pair that Hououin Kyouma dubbed "The Twin-Star Scientists".

Chapter Text

Date: March 28, 2026 9:07:39AM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

"Boss! Boss!"

Words spoken in very excited Japanese stirred Kurisu from her sleep. The voices that those words belonged to were her children as they came barreling into the bedroom. Before she had the chance to open her eyes, two small weights immediately jumped on the side of the bed where her husband was supposed to be sleeping. As proof that it was indeed her husband's side of the bed, the landing of the two weights elicited a wheeze from Okabe as the wind got knocked out of him.

Kurisu let a contented sigh escape her lips as she shifted to start sitting up in the bed. Both Reina and Haruki were 4-years-old - about to be 5 in May - but they quickly began to show their prodigious tendencies. In order to maximize their language development, the couple devised a plan where Okabe would only speak to the kids in Japanese whereas Kurisu would only speak to the kids in English. Sometimes the couple would both speak at the same time to get them to switch up mid-conversation and form new neuronal connections that would only become stronger the older that they got. Unfortunately for her, Okabe taught them plenty more than just Japanese. Of course, simply doing as he was told was never enough. If there was any reason for their kids to grow up to be as delusional as he was in his teenage years, it would solely be his fault as he ensured that they developed their own mad scientist personas akin to Hououin Kyouma.

The kids were still quite tiny - the taller of the two was Reina, but only by about a centimeter. At their tallest, they reached Kurisu's hip. The kids' chestnut hair was very disheveled, telling Kurisu that they more than likely got to doing whatever they were doing as soon as they got out of bed.

"Boss, me and Masamune have a big idea for a future gadget!" Reina very excitedly bounced on Okabe as she revealed why they came sprinting into the bedroom.

"And what is that, my henchmen?" Okabe sat up clearing his throat to get the groggy graveliness out of his voice and immediately started playing along.

"Self-replicating slime!" they both answered ecstatically.

Are we trying to create the means for a literal "Gray Goo" scenario? Kurisu thought to herself. All she could do was smile as the kids reveled in their excitement over the possible project.

"That is an idea that only truly insane mad scientists can come up with," Okabe let out an evil chuckle much to the delight of the kids. "But there's one thing that's just as important as the gadget itself. I hope you two have come up with a name for it."

"Yeah, it's gonna be called... 'Blue Goo'!" Haruki - though currently going by Arakawa Masamune - responded with dramatic flare.

So we are trying to create a "Gray Goo" scenario .

"No, idiot!" Reina - or in this case Amaterasu Kiyoko - chided her brother. "You agreed that we were going to call it 'Bluetiful Bounty'!".

The "Bluetiful Bounty" part was said in English, which was rare for a future gadget name. However, that aside, Kurisu did not appreciate Reina's chiding of her brother. She was about to step into the conversation to scold Reina for calling her brother an idiot, but Okabe was a second faster.

"Horrible!" Okabe exclaimed. "It's clear to me that you two have a very long way to go before becoming proper mad scientists like the great Hououin Kyouma."

That statement itself was nearly enough to make the kids cry in disappointment. Kurisu herself even thought that blowing up the kids' name ideas in their faces was a tad bit too far.

"But it's a start," he very quickly added. "You both have the temperament that’s required for this dangerous job and I will be sure to guide you with all the accursed power that I have contained within my right arm. However , that can only happen if you present a united front."

Okabe eyed both of the kids as they fought back sniffles.

"Kiyoko, Masamune is your other half," he said, fully turning his attention towards Reina. "Weaken or deride him and your own mad science falters.” He then turned to look at Haruki, “Masamune, if you come to agreements with Kiyoko, only proper mad scientists honor them. If you didn't like the name she chose for the gadget to begin with, you two could have worked together to come up with a better one instead of lying to her about how you felt about it and then telling me something different. We are at our strongest when we work together . Am I understood?"

"Yes, Papa," both of the kids said, wiping their eyes simultaneously and breaking the act for a brief moment.

"Papa?" Okabe was quick to start exaggeratedly looking around the room. "Who's Papa? All I see here is a boss and his henchmen!"

They immediately shook off their initial apprehension and got back into character.

"Y-Yes Boss!" Reina exclaimed.

"You got it, Boss," Haruki followed.

Okabe extended his arms out to the kids. "Come here you little devils."

They obliged, Reina taking Okabe's left side and Haruki taking the right. Kurisu watched, feeling a warmness spread deep within her chest. She knew Okabe would be great with kids, but to be able to operate at this level at all times without getting exhausted was superhuman. He was made to be a father and it showed in the cackles and evil giggles that the mad scientists shared mid-hug. Okabe looked over at his wife who was plenty satisfied just watching them all interact.

"You too, Christina," he extended his right arm out towards her and beckoned her to join the group hug.

Kurisu sighed as she wiggled her way towards the group and got in between Haruki and Okabe.

"If either of them start calling me Christina," she turned and whispered as quietly as she could into his ear so that the kids didn't hear. "Then you will be beyond dead, Hououin Kyouma ."

She uttered Okabe's mad scientist name as snidely as she possibly could. The response she got was a brief moment where his arms tensed up, followed by an "Understood."

Kurisu kissed the top of Haruki's and Reina's heads, and then ruffled Okabe's ridiculously long hair with her left hand.

"Alright, my mad scientists," she said in English, breaking the hug first. "How about I cook us some breakfast while you three figure out that new future gadget of yours."

Reina and Haruki were quick to express their excitement. It took a couple of years of practice with Mayuri and Luka on her summer breaks, but Kurisu was slowly able to make herself a force to be reckoned with in the kitchen. The first step to her improvement was her own admittance that the food that she prepared was not quite the best - though Okabe would always make a face as if what she cooked was an affront to nature. Ever since she finally got his seal of approval though, the couple happily traded off cooking duties - Okabe assuming the lion's share of it because of the hours that Kurisu worked as Co-Director of the Neuroscience Institute.

"Go ahead and get the kotatsu ready, we'll be eating there," she ordered. "Papa and I will be right out once we get changed."

"But Mama," Haruki interjected in English as he was trying to kick himself off of the bed. "That's not Papa, that's Boss."

Kurisu could see the smile forming on Okabe's face even in her mind's eye. Her eyes turned into slits and a crafty grin of her own started to grow.

"You know, Masamune," she played along with her son's mad scientist name. "Even Hououin Kyouma has a boss, and it's not right for his boss to call him 'Boss'." She turned to Okabe whose smile went from triumphant to forced, his eyebrows wrinkled upwards in worry. "Isn't that right, Hououin Kyouma ?"

Yet again, she said his name as if spitting it out at him, the force of her stare making him break into a sweat.

"M-Mama's right Masamune," Okabe responded in Japanese. "Now hurry along and close the door behind you, there's mad science to be done."

"Yes, Boss!" the twins said in unison then hurried out of the room, following Okabe's request to shut the door.

The couple turned to each other, soft smiles on their faces. They were in their pajamas, Kurisu in a silky violet top that was held up by thin shoulder-straps with a matching pair of loose shorts; Okabe in a simple white t-shirt and plain, blue boxers. Their hair was about as disheveled as the kids', but it was much more prominent with Okabe since he was so adamant on growing out his hair down to his shoulders. Kurisu tried to teach him all the proper techniques to take care of it, but unless she was on top of him to make sure he was following what she said, he never did it. Her own hair was also down just past her shoulders, choosing to don this new, shorter style in 2014 when Okabe first came to America. The amount of compliments and adoration he heaped on her when she first showed off the new haircut to him never failed to make her blush when she recalled it.

Her left hand reached out and caressed his cheek. His face was still very warm from the heat he produced in the middle of his slumber. She let her thumb rub across the light stubble that was forming on his face, enjoying the prickliness she felt as she did so. "Good morning, Okarin."

It was something decided very early on in their relationship to do given how strong both of their personalities were. No matter what were to happen or how angry they could potentially be with each other (though admittedly, Kurisu was the one who was mostly angry with him) they would never fail to say good morning or good night.

"Good morning, my love," he said in return, his own hand reaching up to grab hers and keeping it planted on his cheek. His thumb caressed the back of her hand before promptly pulling it to his lips and kissing her middle finger. Kurisu didn't know how, but she swore that even after nearly 15 years of being together, the pair never truly left the honeymoon phase of their relationship.

"Shall we get started on the day?" he asked.

"Let's get started," her smile still remained bright. "After all, there's mad science to be done."

She planted her own kiss on the corner of Okabe's mouth after her statement, a little giggle escaping her lips and a chuckle escaping Okabe's. Ready to take on the day, Kurisu tossed the covers aside and began changing out of her nightwear to get into her day clothes, prompting Okabe to do the same (though she spotted some stray glances from him at her naked form).

Once ready, they left the room together, walking down the hallway that led to their common area. Throughout their walk, they could hear the cackles of their mad scientists-in training as they shuffled around the living room area. Upon reaching the end of the hall, they split up — Okabe immediately beginning his evil laugh as he joined their now more infinitely excited children at the kotatsu, Kurisu making her way to the kitchen to get started on their breakfast. She fired up the stove, feeling satisfaction course through her body as she would occasionally peek back to see her world before her.

It was just a normal Saturday, one that was nearly identical to many others that came before. However, Kurisu would never dare trade any of it away.

Date: November 14, 2036 3:06:52AM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

Now that they were both standing side-by-side with their arms crossed, Okabe could begin making out the marginal differences between the siblings. While Haruki was on the thinner side due to his body still trying to catch up to his height, Reina - in spite of the large blanket covering much of her torso - seemed a tad more filled out, yet still petite in all senses of the word. As for their hair, the color looked exactly the same, though at the moment, Haruki's was styled in a bowl-cut while Reina's was long and straight down her back. Neither of them had any real marks on their face, a blessing given Okabe had his fair share of acne in his adolescent years.However, on the side of their necks in what looked like permanent marker, there was the shape of a star - Reina's on the right side, Haruki's on the left.

Okabe could feel the piercing gaze of both teenagers in an eerily similar fashion he would feel Kurisu's when they were still on the Alpha Worldline. Just on this feeling alone, he very well knew that they were her kids.

"If he's lost his memory..." Reina started, an idea forming in her head.

"...Then perhaps the raw might of our aura would be able to bring them back!" Haruki finished her thought, fully in sync with his sister.

Before Kurisu could try to get a word out, the children very rapidly assumed new positions. Haruki had crouched in front of Reina, his arms extended outwards with his palms facing up in an upside-down V; Reina stood tall, raising her arms above her head and forming her own V that was right-side up.

"Cower in fear," Haruki's Japanese was perfectly understandable to Okabe. "For you are about to bear witness to the bringers of the annihilation of this world's ruling structure!"

They shifted positions, Haruki spinning out of his crouch to get next to Reina who also spun to her right to let Haruki get on her left side. Their heads turned towards each other, faces downwards. Haruki's right arm and Reina's left arm connected to form a space between their faces, their other arms extending outwards to form yet another combined V.

"Raised under the wing of the terrifying Hououin Kyouma," Reina continued their speech in Japanese as well. "Our mission forever continues until the world plunges into chaos, or we perish in our attempts!"

They pushed off of each other, both turning to face Kurisu and Okabe. Reina covered her right eye with her right hand and extended her left arm outwards towards her parents. Haruki covered his left eye with his left hand and extended his right arm out towards his parents.

"We are The Twin-Star Scientists!" they exclaimed in unison.

Reina was the first to break her pose and assume a new one while Haruki remained still.

"I am Lab Member 012," Reina crossed her right arm across her face and raised her other hand up into the air, tilting it downwards. "The literal incarnation of the beauty within mad science, and the inheritor of Hououin Kyouma's Cursed Right Arm, I am the insane mad scientist...!"

She shifted her position, having her body face Haruki, her head slightly tilted upwards and her eyes closed. She dropped her raised arm with feminine grace and lightly pressed her fingers across her chest with her other. "...Amaterasu... Kiyoko!"

At the conclusion of Reina's introduction, Haruki very quickly began his own set of poses.

"I am Lab Member 013," he stretched both of his arms out wide, still facing Kurisu and Okabe. "The one whose inner darkness can consume the world and its inhabitants multiple times over, and the inheritor of Hououin Kyouma's Divine Left Arm, I am the insane mad scientist...!"

He assumed a standing pose much akin to The Thinker as he faced Reina and tilted his head downwards. His left leg was slightly bent while his right remained straight, his left arm went across his chest and his right arm rested atop it as he grabbed his chin. "...Arakawa... Masamune!"

With that display alone, Okabe knew for certain that they were his kids. The level of relaxation he felt as the children introduced themselves in their mad scientist personas was second-to-none. Without thinking, he began to mentally dust off what remained of Hououin Kyouma and started his own evil laugh. It had been a rough two years when he returned to the future of the Beta Worldline, so there wasn't much chance to play heavily into the Hououin Kyouma persona, but as Okabe unleashed his laugh, he realized he never lost a step.

"Wonderful! Devastatingly wonderful!" he began much to the chagrin of Kurisu. "Creatures of my own design, how can one like Hououin Kyouma cower in the face of your awesome insanity?!"

Awkward smiles formed on the kids' faces, now confused at the sight before them. Yes, they overheard through strained ears that their father had lost his memory, but as it stood now, he wasn't acting like it. They began to worry that they got the wrong idea as their mother's very own aura emanated much stronger than they could ever hope to replicate.

"K-Kiyoko," Haruki said, calling for his sister's mad scientist name. "Is it me or has our aura raised the air temperature by several degrees?"

He spoke in Japanese as he expressed his denial of the reality before him, a sort of denial that not even his sister could accept.

"This aura is incalculable, Masamune," Reina was timid as she spoke. "Perhaps it's for the best that we start strategizing a retreat before we burn with it."

Kurisu sighed, breaking the hard stare she placed on the children. She figured that while they were up, it would be best to explain the situation as briefly as possible before sending them off to bed with the promise of more when the sun rose. Without talking about worldlines or Reading Steiner, Kurisu explained that their father lost his memories of the last 26 years and had those memories replaced with other irrelevant ones. At this explanation the kids perked up, looking back and forth between Kurisu and Okabe. Obviously, the explanation was full of holes due to its abbreviated nature, so the kids took it upon themselves to try and plug up at least some of them.

"So, Papa doesn't remember or know us, but he still acts the same?" Haruki asked in English.

"Unfortunately, yes. He has no recollection of having you two, just like he has no recollection of marrying me, but the core of who he is has remained. I've made sure of it with my own rigorous testing."

Kurisu looked up towards Okabe, smirking at him. The kids, however, changed their demeanor. No doubt, having a father who didn't know who they were was a blow to their hearts as they began to regard the man before them as a stranger rather than their Papa.

"Did he have an accident with Amadeus?" Reina asked in English. "I know he's been fidgeting with it since we were little."

"No, his memory loss has nothing to do with Amadeus," Kurisu responded.

"Then can't we just reinstate his memories and get rid of these irrelevant ones?" Haruki asked a follow-up, now looking at Okabe as if he was just someone to brush off.

This follow-up question and body language earned Haruki a glare from his mother, making him freeze up immediately. "W-What did I say?"

Despite Kurisu being the shortest person in the room, the level of control she had over everyone with her eyes and voice alone made her seem significantly taller to everyone else. She folded her arms, her brows still furrowed as she looked at the both of them. Instinctively, her kids shied away from her, waiting for the next words that she would speak - terrified that they might have earned themselves a punishment at the cost of their curiosity.

"You both will get a proper explanation tomorrow," Kurisu's voice was cold, even making Okabe shiver. "But I'm done entertaining this for tonight. Go to bed. Now. "

"Y-Yes, Boss!" they both said as they scampered out of the living room and back down the hallway into their own respective bedrooms, feeling supremely lucky that they got away without any sort of punishment. Instead, their mother was going to reward their curiosity if they did as she said.

All Okabe could do was have a smile of his own as he watched his kids run away in terror of their mother. The Steins Gate Worldline was the target worldline for many reasons, but he couldn't have dreamed to have this kind of life on the worldline. Having the woman that his entire life revolved around become his wife; having twins who, even in their teenage years where some might consider it cringeworthy, played so deeply into their mad science personas much like he did when he was younger; a magnificently comfortable living space that came from the accolades of being generation-defining scientists. The only thing that was out of place was him , the one who couldn't remember any of it. At that thought, his smile evaporated, his lips thinning as guilt returned to the forefront of his emotions.

Kurisu was quick to catch Okabe's change in emotions, keeping a close eye on him while she waited for the kids to fully return to their beds. She reached out to him, cupping his cheek with her hand, catching him by surprise.

"We're going to work through this, Okarin," she said in encouragement. "Everything will be okay. This is just your first night here of many more to come."

The mental fortitude on display from Kurisu was unbelievable to Okabe. The way she carried herself now compared to just an hour ago when he first jumped into the worldline was astonishing. There were doubts within him that questioned the authenticity of Kurisu's emotions, doubts that he had to quell now or he'd be eaten from the inside by them.

"I took so much away from you," he said, Kurisu's hand still on his cheek. "How are you able to remain like this with me when I don't have those memories to deserve your kindness?"

Kurisu's eyes welled with tears, but her smile remained in spite of her lips beginning to quiver.

"I won't lie to you," she said, rubbing his cheek with her thumb before reaching down to grab both his hands with hers. "It's incredibly difficult. There are many parts of me that want to be mad at you and curse the sight of you, but there are just as many parts of me that are pushing me to do everything in my power to support you."

Okabe's heart ached at Kurisu's admission, but at least she was being honest.

"I don't know what's to come. I don't know how you'll adapt to this worldline while we try to figure out a way to bring back your memories. I don't know how our dynamic will be from this point moving forward. However, just from this night alone, I have faith that things will be okay in the end."

She enveloped Okabe in a gentle hug. Okabe tensed up at first, not knowing what to do, but after a brief moment of his brain glitching out, he wrapped his own arms around Kurisu's body.

"Most importantly," she said into his chest. "I have faith in you - this heart of yours. Whether you played a support role from the future, or were an active participant in the present, you still saved me. That's the key thing you have in common with your old memories - the one thing that allows me to think that any of this will work."

She pushed away and looked him square in the eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed and her smile replaced with a look of pure determination.

"Now the roles are reversed, Okarin," she said, holding on to his arms which she used to push away from him. "Your previous self got us started on the path of getting your memories back without sacrificing anything . Now it's up to you to follow through on that vision and make it a reality. I know my husband. I know that whatever he sets his mind on, he'll see it through to the very end and come out on top. If you're the Okabe Rintaro I loved for all these years, I know you'll do the same."

"You had the future version of Suzuha and yourself as you are help you back then at Radio Kaikan, but you have me, the children, and the you that you initially guided to help you here and now. We will get your memories back. That's a promise."

Okabe's own emotions began to surge massively. He badly wanted to be happy, to believe in Kurisu and himself that there was a way for him to enjoy the worldline as he was with the memories of before. But what if that faith was misplaced? What if, no matter how hard they tried, they wouldn't be able to get Amadeus to work as intended?

"Kurisu," he looked down at her. "If nothing works, please do as Haruki suggested and use Amadeus to reset my memories."

Kurisu clicked her tongue in response. "Before you lost your memories, I made a promise to you that I wouldn't dare do that. You believed that yourself as you are now deserves to enjoy Steins Gate, and I'm beginning to see the reasoning behind that belief. I'm not going to go back on a promise I made to my husband, even if you're asking me to break it now."

The way Kurisu spoke was so natural. Originally very adamant on separating who he was before to he was at the moment as different people, she now seamlessly switched over to referring to his past self and his present self as the same person. Just for this act alone, all inklings of doubt regarding Kurisu's true intentions vanished from within Okabe's mind. He also couldn't help feeling a sense of gratitude for his past self. He had the means to take control back, yet his first instinct was to fight for a way to co-exist using Amadeus. He needed to see this through, not just for his own sake, but for everyone around him. This worldline had no use for someone whose primary specialty was developing a weapon of mass destruction in a world embroiled by war. However, to his own credit, this worldline wouldn't have even been a possibility if it weren't for that specialty.

There was only one thing to do. He could feel it in his pocket, but he paid no heed to it given everything else he had to focus on. But now, it burned a hole straight into his leg, begging to be used. He pulled it out - a touchscreen device resembling a phone, still having the same red color he always liked his phone to have.

"It's me," he said into the powered-off device. "The Organization has dared try to tamper with time and space using me as their double agent, but thanks to my clever Assistant, I was able to break free of their hold. My memories still remain fractured, but I swear to you on the very name that is Hououin Kyouma, I will recover them and bring chaos to the world once more. That is my promise... to myself, to all the lab members, and especially to you."

He looked into Kurisu's eyes as he spoke his promise. "El. Psy. Kongroo."

Before he could put the phone back into his pocket, Kurisu threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep hug. He was thrown for a loop momentarily, but he would be lying to himself if he said he hadn't waited for moments like this for his whole life. He wrapped his arms around her waist and returned the hug in equal force, hoping that time would slow down so that he could enjoy the moment for longer. After a couple seconds, Kurisu removed herself from Okabe’s shoulder and looked him squarely in the eyes. Her face slowly got closer to his, prompting him to also close the distance himself. However, as their lips were mere centimeters away from each other, he felt her hand reach around the back of his head only to pull his hair with the force relative to a thousand suns, immediately making them both break the hug.

"What was that for?!" he was incredulous as he rubbed the back of his head, trying to feel for any hair that she may or may not have intentionally pulled out.

"You're a remarkable man," she explained. "One who, as the night's progressed, continues to prove that you're the same man that I fell in love with all those years ago. But let me make one thing very clear to you, Okabe Rintaro: I am not your Assistant."

Okabe, initially scared that everything Kurisu said was a ruse and that she actually resented him, couldn't help but burst out laughing at the true reason for why she assaulted him. "Just because I don't have my memories doesn't mean I don't know myself, Christina . Your threats mean nothing to the terrifying Hououin Kyou- ow."

For his actions, he earned himself a flick to the forehead. However, no matter how angry Kurisu tried to present herself, Okabe could see that she was doing her absolute best at fighting back a smile and failing in the process.

"It's about time we go to bed, Hououin Kyouma," she said mockingly. "We have a long day tomorrow."

She grabbed him by the hand and led him down the hallway where the kids disappeared off to, turning off the lights to the common area along the way. Two doors that were separated by about six feet were closed on the left side - Okabe could only assume that they were the kids' bedrooms. The first door that they passed to the right was open to reveal a half-bathroom, containing a toilet and a sink. A little further down on the same side of the hallway, another door was open, the door to the couples' bedroom. It was a rather large room, on the wall furthest from the door was a queen-sized bed in a rather ornate chocolate-colored wooden bedframe - its white sheets and navy blue comforter tossed aside. At the head of the bed, also against the wall were two nightstands on each side. Each one had their own transparent digital clock, but one side had a red pair of glasses and a set of keys while the other side only had a wallet. Okabe could assume whose side of the bed was whose based on these items.

To the left of the bed when looking at it from the door, there was a window with the blinds drawn, no doubt also granting a view of the city and on the opposite wall was a door that led to the combined walk-in closet and bathroom. A dresser was also there, having a chic, modern look with a white marble surface much like the kitchen island and pullout drawers that were made of the same kind of wood that the bed frame had. There was an opaque divider atop the dresser, splitting it cleanly in two, and atop there was a divot that formed a cubby for both sides. Each side contained items that showcased who had which side. Okabe's side - the right side closest to the entrance door - contained rolled belts, an assortment of neckties, and rather expensive-looking watches. On Kurisu's side - the left side closest to the bathroom door - there was an assortment of jewelry ranging from necklaces to bracelets, her own set of neckties, and a lone polaroid picture. Within the picture was the members of the Future Gadget Lab along with a couple of others posing with Kurisu and Okabe at their wedding. There was something off-putting about the picture for Okabe, but he couldn't place his finger on it. He didn't wish to think too deeply about it, though, as tiredness began to overtake him rapidly.

Kurisu shed the blanket that she wore, revealing her violet nightwear which Okabe found to be very revealing, but he did his best to stay respectful. She then grabbed Okabe's blanket, folded both, and then placed them in a basket at the foot of the bed. He took the phone out of his pants pocket, placed it on the nightstand that contained his wallet, and then plopped down on the left side of the bed, closest to the bathroom while Kurisu also got into the covers next to him. Facing the wall of the door, there were quite a couple cubbies that were horizontally placed. From where he was, all he could tell that the cubbies contained were trophies and more personal mementos that the pair shared throughout the years. He leaned his head back and let it hit the pillow, drawing the covers over himself. Once he got comfortable, he felt the weight of Kurisu close the gap between them, placing her head on his right shoulder and her hand across his chest. It was a warmness that Okabe was not accustomed to, nor something he expected after how things first started in the jump. However, it was a feeling he welcomed with all his heart. He wrapped his right arm around Kurisu, pulling her ever-closer.

“If I can ask, why were we up so late at night anyway?” Kurisu could feel the vibrations within Okabe’s chest as he spoke.

“I had a nightmare of the Alpha Worldline,” she softly said as she dug herself into his shoulder. “But just like most dreams of that worldline, I’ve forgotten just about everything… I just remember the fact that I died.”

It was an honest answer from Kurisu. She knew this would be the eventuality when she walked out on the roof at the beginning of the night. Of course, the act of forgetting the dream was exacerbated by a more extreme scenario in real life.

“It’s a shame that the sticking point of that dream was the worst part of it,” his voice grew softer as tiredness began to claim him. “Hopefully the dreams cease soon…”

“A part of me feels like there were much worse things in that dream, but I’d rather not try to mull over it.”

“Good… idea,” the need to sleep was overwhelming for Okabe. “We’re on Steins Gate anyways…”

"Good night, Okarin," she said, not wanting to force him to fight the need to sleep any longer.

There was a feeling Okabe felt bubbling up once he began reminiscing on what Kurisu meant to him. He didn't fight the feeling at all, both due to tiredness and the earnestness with how he felt.

"Good night… my love," he acted on the feeling before succumbing to his tiredness.

Kurisu looked up at Okabe's serene face from her spot on his shoulder, eyes wide in shock. Again, he did things that he would usually do when he still had his memories. Again, all she could see was her husband. She still mourned very deeply for his memories - their shared memories - but the man before her was him . In just about everything she's seen so far tonight, this man was her Okarin. She wiped away the tears that were beginning to form, hopefully the last of many that she'd cried that night. She nuzzled herself into Okabe's shoulder and drifted off to sleep shortly after her husband.

Date: November 14th, 2036 6:30:46AM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

Kurisu was the first to stir, feeling the silent buzzing of the alarm in her pillow. Despite everything that happened the night before, today was Friday which meant it was still a work day, but more importantly, the kids had to go to school. She was beyond tired, but she had to get the kids to school at 8:00AM and then text Maho that she nor Okabe would be able to come in that day. Once all was said and done, then perhaps she could nap at some point in the middle of the day with Okabe. As Co-Directors of Viktor Chondria's Institute of Neuroscience, Maho and Kurisu were in charge of their own schedule, but for the sake of the lab they tried their best to not miss any days and, if they did, tried to ensure that at least one of them would be in.

At some point in the night, she had separated from Okabe and gone to her own side of the bed. She turned over to see her husband, still in deep sleep. She analyzed his face closely, as she usually did if she woke up before him. The man next to her looked much more worn down - eyebags that weren't there before they went to bed, had now formed overnight. She counted the seconds between his breaths, a tic of hers whenever she looked at him. Much like before, his breathing was slow, and not a snore was heard. She was very grateful that even in other worldlines, her husband wasn't a snorer. She reminisced over the night before, letting herself feel the grief of her husband's lost memories. Despite everything, there was still a gap between Kurisu and this current version of Okabe, a gap formed by memories of other worldlines, a gap that she so desperately wished to close.

She took a deep breath, content with letting Okabe continue to sleep as she shut off his pillow alarm which was totally unable to wake him up, and slipped out of bed. Sneaking to the dresser, she grabbed her day clothes and changed in the bathroom before leaving the room, closing the door behind her. As she walked down the hall, she passed the now-open doors of her children, hearing them speak in low voices to each other from the kitchen island. She was still obscured within the hall, so she slowed her pace, hoping to overhear what they were speaking about. At the absolute limit from where she could be spotted, she stopped and poked her head around the corner, seeing the turned backs of her children who were in the middle of eating cereal for breakfast.

"But I still don't get it," she heard Reina say in English. "If it's not Amadeus, then what could have possibly made Papa lose his memories and gain new ones?"

"I didn't see any prominent injury on his head," Haruki followed. "But what if his hippocampus was hit by an ultra-precise gamma wave from space? His memories could have been swapped arou-"

"Can we not be delusional for once, little brother?" Reina cut Haruki off before he could complete his idea. "I'm actually really worried for Papa."

Haruki grumbled something unintelligible before replying. "Mama didn't give us the full story. There's no way for us to know until she shares that with us, and with how late it’s starting to get, we might not find out until we're back from school."

"Do you think we should go wake her up?" Reina asked. "She and Papa are usually up around this time anyway to get their things ready for work."

"I don't know," Haruki drew in his breath. "They were up pretty late last night, so I'm sure she'll want a little more time to sleep. You know what Mama's like when she doesn't get her sleep..."

They both shivered, eliciting a frown from Kurisu. She began slinking her way to where the kids were at, careful not to make any sound while they continued to eat their cereal.

"Yeah..." Reina said after she took another bite. "It's probably for the best..."

She closed the gap instantly, standing directly behind and in between her two children. "Pray tell, what's Mama like when she doesn't get her sleep?"

Both teens instantly froze, their hands now white-knuckling their spoons as they slowly turned around to see Kurisu with her mouth creased into a smile. She didn't know how, but her children grew to fear her despite the fact that she never did anything to them. If there were any punishments to actually dole out when they were growing up, Okabe was usually the one to handle it.

"G-Good morning Mama," Haruki smiled nervously as he regarded Kurisu. "I hope... I hope you dreamt well last night."

"I didn't say anything," Reina immediately threw her brother under the bus. "That was all Haru."

Haruki's head immediately snapped towards Reina, mouth agape over the betrayal she just subjected him to. The fear with which they regarded Kurisu was kind of funny to her. All she could do was let out a chortle as she reached both her hands out to ruffle their hair.

"Good morning you two," she chuckled, messing with their already messy hair. "Whatever happened to that united front that Hououin Kyouma taught you two to keep?"

"Clearly Reina forgot all about it," Haruki grumbled, trying to fix his hair but to no avail.

"Survival of the fittest, little brother," Reina retorted. "Survival of the fittest."

Kurisu grabbed at the furthest right of the island, right next to Haruki. She reached into her bag which was right in front of her and grabbed her work tablet so that she could call out of work via official means. Though, as she did so, she could feel the expectant stares of her kids begging for an explanation about what happened the night before. She sighed, recalling herself stating that she'd tell them everything at a more reasonable time. Right now was a vital time as they were both preparing their applications for early admittance to Viktor Chondria University, and she would rather have them be slightly distracted in school knowing what happened to their father, than completely distracted as they tried to deduce what happened with incomplete data.

"Finish getting ready and we'll talk for a bit," she relented. "I'll be taking you both to school since Papa's not feeling too well and I'm staying home to take care of him."

Almost immediately, the twins devoured what was left of their cereal and bolted down the hall into their rooms. Using the time she had to herself, Kurisu continued the process of calling out for herself and her husband through Viktor Chondria's timekeeping software, and set their out of office message for the day. She then shifted her attention to Okabe's bag. While he didn't have any classes today, he still held office hours. As a professor of Neuroscience 101, he had a very difficult entry-level class that whittled away those who were unserious about the career, but he was a very popular professor due to his teaching methods and very generous office hours. It was going to be disappointing to the students who signed up for his office hours for the day, but as he was, there was no way he was going to be of any use. She grabbed his tablet and canceled his office hours, then sent an email explaining that he had fallen ill and needed to recover. Unfortunately, the following week would be midterms so the amount of office hours she canceled for the day were astronomical, but on the other side of the coin, his teaching assistants (of which he handpicked all four) would be able to pick up the slack and run the class for the week.

Shortly after finishing everything, Kurisu's tablet started buzzing. It was a call from Maho. That woman was always on top of every notification that came through, no doubt she was notified of Kurisu's last-minute call-out. Kurisu picked up the tablet and answered the call.

"Kurisu," Maho's face appeared on the screen before her. "Is everything okay?"

The woman looked like she had barely woken up herself. Her eyes were dark and her hair was very tangled, but her energy still remained vibrant. As much as Kurisu loved her experiments, Maho was on a totally different level, willing to sacrifice bits of her health if she ever got super engaged in one. Prior to Okabe’s loss of memories, he, Maho, and a handful of other researchers were busy trying to expand Amadeus' Memory Storage capabilities to assist with PTSD victims. While everyone went home for the day yesterday, she was sure Maho stuck behind to keep doing more work.

"I should be asking that of you, Senpai ," Kurisu said. "How long were you up last night?"

"Oh, not too late..." Maho tried to wave Kurisu off, but Kurisu stayed quiet and looked into the screen waiting for Maho to break. "...4:00AM..."

Kurisu sighed, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. " Senpai , if you keep going at this rate, you're just going to run yourself into the ground."

"Bah, I'm 47-years-young," Maho replied. "I have a couple more near-all-nighters in me."

Maho flashed a cheeky smile before her eyebrows furrowed once more and she returned to the original reason for why she called.

"What's happened? You've only ever called out on the day of for absolute emergencies."

Not being able to lie to the woman who had become one of her absolute best friends over the years, Kurisu began to speak.

"It's Okarin..." she said. "Some stuff's happened and I need at least this weekend to be able to sort through it."

"You two didn't get into a fight did you? Did he hurt you? I swear if he did I'll be right there this instant with the best divorce attorney I know."

"No, no, nothing like that," Kurisu was quick to try and ward off the worst of Maho's assumptions. "He's just going through something right now and I need to be there to support him."

Maho eyed Kurisu suspiciously through the screen. "Must be something on a totally different scale if you won't just come out and say it."

Kurisu bit her lip, not knowing how much was okay to share regarding her husband's condition. If it were anyone else but Maho asking, she'd have remained tight-lipped, but Maho was about as close to her as Okabe was.

"He's..." Kurisu hesitated, debating on whether or not to continue.

Maho was quick to stop her, waving her hand in front of the screen as Kurisu was about to open her mouth again. "If you're not ready to share, don't feel obligated to Kurisu. Deal with the situation first and we can talk about it afterwards if you want."

Kurisu felt relief surge through her body as Maho made the choice for her. Just like usual, her Senpai stayed gentle with her, never pushing Kurisu too hard on any matter whether they be work-related or simply personal.

"Thank you, Senpai ," she said. "I promise I'll explain everything in due time."

"Good," Maho smiled. "All the best with what's happening. I promise not to burn down the lab while you're gone."

"I'll keep you to that promise," Kurisu giggled. "And please try to find times in the day to nap if you can, Senpai . You look like you really need it."

"Well isn't that the pot calling the kettle black," Maho said, noting Kurisu's own haggard appearance. "Take care of yourself, Kurisu. Have a good weekend."

"You too, Senpai ," Kurisu responded before pressing on her screen to hang up the call.

Kurisu had a couple more moments to breathe and try to process everything on her own. She still felt torn about how things turned out the night before. There were things about the man currently sleeping in her bed that screamed that he was her husband. Yet, the most important thing for her, the knife she currently felt digging deeper and deeper into her heart, was the fact that he couldn't remember her. She didn't know what kind of idealized version of her this Okabe built in his head. She was a broken person when he first met her in 2010 after what happened with her father. No doubt, she was a mess, but she was a mess that her Okarin stayed patient with while they worked together to get her better. Her mental state may have improved for the most part, but the way he described her last night - calling her his universe when he'd only known her when they were 18-years-old - made her uncomfortable. As thankful as she was that his feelings were what ended up saving her that fateful summer, she didn't feel like her past self was deserving of any of it.

She knew herself. She knew that she would have random moments throughout the year where her traumas engulfed her and she became a horrible person to him. Okabe knew this when they first started dating in 2011 and stuck through it. All she could hope was that this Okabe could do the same. She didn't know how her heart would be able to handle being abandoned by her husband for not being the ideal he chased for years.

She eyed the time on her tablet, now reading 6:40AM. Thanks to being in a more affluent part of Los Angeles which could be afforded by their salary and some help from Faris, the private school that the kids went to was only about a 10 minute drive from home. They would be out any moment which meant Kurisu had the whole hour to explain everything to them.

As if on cue, the pair came sprinting out of their rooms dressed in their school uniform - blue checkered-plaid bottoms, Haruki's being pants and Reina's being a skirt, and a white polo with the school's shield insignia on the left breast. They also looked much cleaner in general. Haruki's hair, previously a disheveled bowl cut, was slicked back with a couple loose strands covering his forehead. If he had dyed his hair black, he would be the spitting image of a young Okabe. Reina, on the other hand, wore her hair in a loose braided ponytail. Despite her intense personality, she was now at the age where she wanted to get the attention of boys she showed interest in, so she experimented with different styles until she landed on the one that she claimed got her the most positive attention. The couple went to great lengths having that discussion with their kids when Haruki started puberty two years prior, so she had faith that they would make good choices and be open about anything and everything with their parents if they ever needed. One thing that she would always internally roll her eyes at were the stars that they drew onto their necks every day. As the Twin-Star Scientists, they needed to make that title known, taking a page out of the somehow still-ongoing Juju's Bizarre Adventure .

They immediately found their seat at the kitchen island, assuming their previous positions with Haruki sitting right next to Kurisu and Reina sitting a bit further down.

"In order for you to properly understand," she started. "We need to go back to well before you two were born in 2010."

From there Kurisu explained everything she knew. There were still some things that Okabe had kept hidden from her, but he was very open about how his Reading Steiner worked when he was trying to explain the feelings of déjà vu she was afflicted with for the better part of the first year that she'd known him. She explained the concept of worldlines and divergence points that she gathered from him and how his Reading Steiner allowed him to retain his memories from the previous worldline at the cost of the new one. With each new detail added to the story, the kids' faces slowly evolved from looks of skepticism to being fully engaged with what Kurisu was saying. She opened up about how he saved her in 2010 and that it wouldn't have been possible without his ability to jump through time and worldlines with intact memories. Naturally, it brought her to the part of the story that she had only recently learned the night before - that Okabe couldn't have done it without the help of a future version of himself who fought through World War III and sent him the necessary guidance to go about rescuing her.

"So..." Reina said in between pauses as she made the necessary connections. "Papa currently has the memories of someone who fought through World War III?"

"And," Haruki added. "He only knew you for a couple months before he witnessed your death?"

The kids were smart in many aspects. Kurisu was glad that her explanation was acceptable for them, though she figured that the delusions fed to them by their father made them prone to suspend their disbelief a bit more than the norm. She also figured that since the explanation came from her, there'd be much more credence lent to her words than if Okabe would be the one to explain it.

"Yes," she admitted, not liking how Haruki pieced together the timeline. "This is a Papa who is currently learning how to love us as we are from scratch."

"But Mama that's not right," Reina cried. "How can he learn to love us from scratch when our actual Papa was the one who raised us? For all we know, that guy is a soldier from World War III who never learned how to be a lover, much less a parent."

Though she understood the feeling, Kurisu's heart hurt at Reina's refusal to acknowledge Okabe. It wasn't like her daughter was wrong, though. Kurisu only got a highly summarized version of events of what happened in the Beta Worldline, so who knew what Okabe was forced to do when trying to survive a hellscape like World War III?

"And you got mad at me last night for suggesting the idea," it was Haruki's turn to protest. "But can you at least explain why you can't use Amadeus to get our old Papa's memories back?"

She remembered the visceral reaction she had to Haruki's suggestion the night before. It was a fair question to ask so she relented.

"Because I made a promise to Papa before he lost his memories," Kurisu said to the kids' surprise. "We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for 'that guy' who had to fight through World War III. Without him, Papa wouldn't have been able to save me and you two miracles would not have been born."

Kurisu was sincere with her children, remaining patient with them while they grappled with their own emotions. She recognized that her comment quoting Reina's words made her daughter flinch and immediately look down in shame.

"Papa thinks that this version of him with those memories from the other worldline deserves to enjoy Steins Gate just as much as he did. But that's not to say he's given up and is lost forever. The three of us are going to work on trying to get his memories back by any means without compromising the current ones he has. If we can find a way to make those memories co-exist, he'll be an even more complete Papa. And to start, we need to see if Amadeus is affected by Reading Steiner."

Kurisu eyed the time on the tablet which now read 7:26AM before shifting her focus back to her kids who were in their own world, distraught as they could be. She hoped they would be as restless as she was in finding out what happened to Amadeus, but the sight before her proved her wrong. They couldn't face their mother as tears began to form in their eyes, mourning the loss for their father's memories in their own way. She needed to be a mother before a scientist.

"Hey," she said, calling for their attention which they promptly gave. "We need to have faith in Papa. If he believed that this was possible, then it's our job to make it possible. That's how we mad scientists have always operated, right?"

Her joke prompted a smile from Reina and a chuckle from Haruki. She got up from her spot and kissed both Haruki and Reina on their foreheads.

"I'm not asking you to love Papa as he is with all your heart right now ," she relented. "I understand it'll be very difficult to do so given you barely know him and he barely knows you. All I'm asking is that you be patient with him. He's trying his best too."

"Okay, Mama," Reina said, hugging Kurisu from her seat.

"If it means we get to grill him later about everything he went through, then sure," Haruki said as he got up from his spot to find his own place in the hug. "Only if he wants to talk about it though... I guess..."

Kurisu smiled as she wrapped both her children in her arms. She may not have completely convinced the kids to accept Okabe for what he currently was, but it was a start. She never expected them to fully accept him given how much younger they were and how different their relationship with their father was versus her relationship with him as his wife.

A loud, sustained scream suddenly pierced the whole apartment. Terror was all Kurisu could feel as her heart dropped into her stomach at the sound of it. The origin of it came from down the hallway - the master bedroom where she left Okabe to sleep.

Kurisu's mind flashed back to 2011 when Okabe was at the peak of his recurring nightmares. The screams that would escape from him back then were heartbreaking. Now, 25 years later, she could feel her heart breaking yet again for her husband as the rush of adrenaline began to flow through her body.

"Okarin!" she yelled, letting go of the kids and running towards the bedroom.

"Papa!" Reina and Haruki yelled at the same time as they scrambled out of their seats and were in Kurisu's tow.

Kurisu was terrified of what she'd see and she hoped against all hope that he was okay. He had to be okay.

Chapter Text

Date: ?

Divergence: 1.123581β(????)

Okabe eyes shot open, feeling pure adrenaline course through his body for absolutely no reason. He tried to roll out from where he was laying, but the pain in his wrists and ankles forced him to stop trying. He looked down to see why and was mortified at the sight. He was laying on a table, his arms and legs shackled to it with steel cuffs. No matter how hard he tried to squirm he couldn't break their hold. A bright light shined down on him, capable of blinding him if he looked at it for even a second. Even with his eyes closed, his vision was clouded in white.

What happened? he thought to himself. One second he made it to Steins Gate and went to bed with the love of his life, the next he was chained up in a completely unknown place. Was this Kurisu's doing? Did she trick him into believing he was actually in Steins Gate and make him lower his guard so that she could kidnap him? Was she going to forcefully overwrite his memories even though she promised that she wouldn't? He did his best to shake himself free, but his bindings wouldn't give way in the slightest.

From somewhere that he couldn't see, he heard a weathered voice that made his hairs stand on end. The voice of a man he resented to his very core.

"So you're awake, Rintaro."

Professor Alexis Leskinen spoke to Okabe in English, making himself visible to the bound man for the first time.

He was a gaunt old man - as if any gust of wind would be enough to make him fall over. His lab coat looked big for his frame, his hands were so frail that he could see the veins popping out, and his face - despite having the same prominent features when Okabe first met him - sagged prominently along his cheeks. This was the old professor who chased Okabe and Valkyrie across the wasteland of the post-war world of the Beta Worldline. This was the man who Okabe considered his mortal enemy once he revealed his intentions during the loops where he was trying to make Operation Arc-light succeed. Why was he there?

"Why are you here? Where's Kurisu?" Okabe responded in Japanese.

"Kurisu?" Leskinen tilted his head inquisitively. "We haven't even done anything to you yet. Did the trauma of last week get to you?"

Okabe's eyes widened at Leskinen's words. As he processed the professor's words, memories flashed in his mind, memories that he never recalled having.

Operation Skuld was a failure.

On the night of operation, Suzuha's time machine disappeared into spacetime just as he remembered. However, its disappearance never triggered a shift. Valkyrie was surrounded as the New Government's soldiers acted on their secondary mission objective after failing to retrieve the time machine: the capture of Rintaro Okabe, Maho Hiyajo, and Itaru Hashida, and the prompt elimination of the rest. Okabe was immediately knocked unconscious via rubber bullets so he didn't know what happened. However, based on the countless loops he experienced in the Alpha Worldline, he already had an inkling as to what the outcome was. He remembered coming in and out of consciousness multiple times, but just as Leskinen said, it must have been a week since the failure of the operation.

"You know, you've really annoyed me Rintaro," Leskinen looked down at Okabe, a smile that radiated malice on his face. "Not only did you keep my little messenger from going back in time, your organization destroyed everything related to the time machine. And for what? We could have created a more perfect world, one where the right people were in control had you just let us do what we needed to do. But, instead you threw a tantrum and set all of us back to square one."

Given how close he was, Okabe did what he thought was right and spat at Leskinen's face. For the longest time he wished he could do that, but when he initially foiled the professor's plans in 2011, he never saw the man again. That was until this very moment. Leskinen simply took the brunt of the spit without flinching, pulling a white handkerchief out of his coat pocket and wiping away the saliva that dripped down his cheek.

"I see the tantrum continues," he remarked as he moved away from Okabe and pulled a radio out of his pocket. "Maybe with this, we'll act more like adults."

He put the radio up to his mouth and spoke into it. "Bring her in."

After a couple moments, Okabe heard the sound of an iron door opening and two pairs of footsteps entering. However, the sound of their footsteps was frantic.

"Okarin!" Okabe recognized the voice instantly as his head shot up to see who entered.

There, being held in place by a guard while she struggled, was Mayuri Shiina. She was bruised and bloodied, but otherwise she seemed relatively healthy given that she was supposed to have died on the night of Operation Skuld.

"Mayuri!" Okabe yelled as he struggled against his bindings. "Let her go or else-"

Leskinen's hearty laugh cut off Okabe. The laugh then turned to coughs. "You're in no position to threaten anything, Rintaro. In fact, it's probably best if you don't."

Leskinen wiped his mouth with the clean side of the handkerchief before turning to Mayuri and speaking in very accented Japanese. " You know it’s all Rintaro's fault that you're in this situation, right dear ?"

Okabe's whole body convulsed with rage. He swore he could kill the man with his bare hands if he had the strength to break out of his bindings. However, as angry as he got, nothing he did got him free. All he could do was watch helplessly as Leskinen addressed Mayuri with the faux gentleness that made Okabe trust him back then.

"Okarin's not a bad person!" Mayuri protested. "All he wanted was to reach Steins Gate. A worldline of peace! If you don't want that, then you're the one at fault for all of this!"

Leskinen flashed his teeth at Mayuri. " You people and your childish ideals. So long as humans exist, there will never be peace - it's our nature. This 'Steins Gate' your dear 'Okarin' wanted to reach was nothing but a pipe dream aimed to manipulate you all into becoming terrorists. You weren't supposed to live that kind of life ."

"Okarin wouldn't do that!" Mayuri was adamant as she continued to struggle against her captor. "You're the one who wants to keep dragging us into war!"

"Bring her closer," Leskinen gave up on the conversation and stopped addressing Mayuri.

At the order, the soldier brought Mayuri closer to the table, and as a consequence, ever closer to Leskinen. In spite of her attempts to break free and constant pleas to be let go, she was slowly dragged to Leskinen.

"Leskinen, this fight is between you and me," Okarin began to plead. "Leave Mayuri out of this."

"I'm inclined to disagree, Rintaro," Leskinen was quick to retort. "My fight is with your terrorist cell, and as I recall, she was in the compound the night we raided it. Was she not?"

Okabe kept struggling in the same way Mayuri was. "I swear to you, I will fucking kill you if you lay your hands on her."

Leskinen smiled at Okabe as Mayuri was placed next to him. Her eyes were wide in horror as she looked at Okabe, tears flowing freely. He could see her silently pleading with him to make things right, but as things stood, he was utterly powerless to do anything. Seeing her face renewed the intensity of his struggle but to no avail. Her eyes then shifted to Leskinen as he pulled a recorder out of his pocket.

"Who's to say that I haven't already?" his eyes creased due to the widening of his smile. Okabe's whole body was covered in chills at the old professor’s statement.

Mayuri's eyes widened at the revelation of the recorder. "No, Professor please-"

Her voice was promptly cut off by the sound that came out of the recorder. It was a sound that Okabe recognized very well - a sound that haunted him in the early days of the war. Amadeus Mozart's "The Magic Flute K20" started playing out of the recorder. Within moments, the silent pleas that were present in Mayuri's eyes were engulfed by a lifelessness that shattered Okabe's heart. He felt consumed by his rage as the song played, swearing upon every god in existence that he would make Leskinen pay for his actions. He cursed at the professor, spittle flying with every word he spoke, yet neither Mayuri or the professor reacted to any of it.

"It took me quite a long time to break Kagari back then," Leskinen spoke over Okabe's curses. "But thanks to the head-start I had, look at how efficient I've been able to make the whole brainwashing process! It's only been a week and Miss Mayuri is completely subservient to the Voice of God."

Okabe's entire world was in pieces. If he knew what fate had in store for him and his friends, he would not have brought Suzuha and Mayuri back to the present. A death in the cold, harsh winds of 18000 BCE was a much better fate than Mayuri's current state.

"And I know we talked about this whole 'being adults thing'." Leskinen continued. "But I'll be honest, this was just retaliation for what you've done. An eye for an eye, I suppose."

Leskinen leaned back over the shattered Okabe, now unable to even produce anything besides tears that leaked with rage.

"I have no need for you, Rintaro," Leskinen's smile resumed to the faux gentleness it usually had. "I know the real masterminds behind the time machine are Maho and Itaru. I'll break them in due time."

He got up from the table and hobbled his way out of the door with Mayuri's captor.

"Consider this a parting gift for just over 25 years of rivalry," Leskinen turned to Mayuri who was still sitting there, looking at nothing in particular. " Mayuri, my child, kill him. Make it as slow as possible. "

A flash of recognition sparked within Mayuri's eyes before they were drowned out by the very same hollowness. "Mayushii will do as you say, God."

She ambled over to a tray that was placed right next to Okabe's table as the door shut behind Leskinen. From there she pulled a small scalpel then turned her attention towards Okabe.

"Mayuri, please break out of this," Okabe begged. "This isn't you! You're my hostage, remember? We've been friends since our childhood. You don't have to do this!"

"Mayushii is God's hostage now, Okarin," Mayuri plainly responded. "If He says that I need to be free from you, then I'll do as He says."

With that, she cut open Okabe's shirt with the scalpel, exposing his chest. Then, she plunged the knife into his midsection, just beneath his lungs. The sudden stabbing pain elicited a scream from Okabe, screams that would only continue to grow louder while Mayuri carved his body slowly and meticulously, smiling absentmindedly as she did so.

Date: November 14, 2036 7:29:57AM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

Okabe felt everything where he laid. The visage of Mayuri's lifeless eyes as she cut into him remained with him as he clutched his head. He saw nothing else. He felt nothing else. All he felt was heartbreak, rage, pain, and everything in between. He never even noticed that he was no longer restrained by the steel cuffs. All he could do was scream.

"Mayuri!" he screamed. "Please!"

Without his noticing, the door to the bedroom flew open as Kurisu and their children sprinted into the room.

"Okarin!" Kurisu tried to cut through Okabe's screams. "It was just a dream! Okarin!"

Try as she might to reason with him with her voice alone, her pleas went unheard. He still thrashed about screaming over and over again about Mayuri. Kurisu immediately turned to the kids, who were wordlessly horrified at what they were witnessing.

"Reina, get me a towel from the bathroom," she began to order. "Haruki, grab a jug from the kitchen cabinet and fill it up with as much cold water as you can carry. Hurry!"

As reason returned to their senses, the twins wordlessly assumed their tasks. Haruki bolted out of the bedroom back down the hallway while Reina ran past her screaming father into the master bathroom. Kurisu, on the other hand, quickly ran to Okabe's side, dialing the one number she knew would help in an instant. She prayed that the person on the other line would pick up and also made sure to apologize in her head for the suddenness and the lateness of the call. As the phone began to ring, Kurisu placed her hands on Okabe, wrapping her fingers around his wrists as gently as she possibly could. Okabe's screams were still piercing, but she remained steadfast as the phone rang.

"Okarin" she said as gently as she could, now closer to his ear. "It's me, I'm here. I need you to wake up, darling."

The phone was still ringing and Okabe was still not coming to, but both twins emerged with the things that Kurisu tasked them to retrieve. She let go of Okabe and immediately swiped the jug out of Haruki's hands, promptly turning back to Okabe's side. "I'm sorry I have to do this."

She dumped all the contents of the jug all over Okabe. As soon as the first of the water touched Okabe, he gasped, trying to take in air, but finding it difficult as his body was fighting the cold. However, he was quickly able to recover his breathing, though he still looked incredibly terrified. As if the stars themselves aligned, the phone finally picked up.

"Tutturu~ It's a surprise to get a call from you this late, Chris-chan. Is everything okay?"

The voice of Mayuri Shiina cut through the room loud and clear. She sounded groggy, though it made sense as she lived in Japan and it was about to be midnight where she was. As an elementary school teacher, Mayuri always prioritized sleep wherever she could, so Kurisu was sure she must have woken the woman up. She watched the terror that engulfed Okabe's entire being dissipate, starting with his eyes. The glint that was formerly there was now replaced with a soft glow.

"M-Mayuri?" His voice was incredibly shaky, but Kurisu didn't know if it was from the cold or from pure emotion. "Is that really you? Are you okay?"

"Okarin? Why are you on Chris-chan's phone? What's going on?"

Kurisu heard the grogginess immediately leave Mayuri's voice as it was very quickly replaced with confusion. However, Kurisu was quick to clarify before her mind began to run.

"I'm here, Mayuri," she said. "Okarin was having another night terror, and it was about you. I'm really sorry for the suddenness of the call."

"Ah, one of those, huh? It's been a while since Okarin last had one."

Kurisu's lips thinned as she handed the phone to Okabe, still on speaker. He took it and waited expectantly for a response, as if his whole life revolved around what Mayuri had to say next. As he took the phone, she took the towel out of Reina's hands and tossed it over his head, patting him dry as gently as she could.

"Mayushii's safe, Okarin," she began. "I'm healthy, happy, and very sleepy - which isn’t a bad thing! This isn't a dream. I promise you that I'm okay."

When Okabe had his night terrors while he still lived in Japan, it was usually about his experiences in the Alpha Worldline. Despite initially waving everything off as just a dream or delusional flashback when they first started happening (like the incident with the building manager), eventually both Mayuri and Kurisu were able to get him to admit to why he was so fearful for Mayuri’s life. She, along with Kurisu, devised a plan to comfort him if he ever went through those - to prove that she was okay, the first voice they ensured he'd hear would be Mayuri’s. With this process, the consistency of the nightmares went down drastically over the course of the years. There'd be occasional times where he would have one, but as Mayuri said, it had been about two years since his last one. However, this one was without a doubt the most intense one she’d ever witnessed.

"Professor Leskinen didn't hurt you in any way, did he?"

"The professor? He's out there in America with you and Chris-chan. Mayushii hasn't really spoken to him since you two got married."

Kurisu's eyes widened at the question. Never in the course of his night terrors did he mention the professor. She motioned for the kids to get close to her and whispered to them as Mayuri answered Okabe's question.

"You're not going to school for now. Give me and Papa space while we figure this out."

"Are you sure, Mama?" Haruki eyed Okabe whose form was covered by the towel.

"Yes," Kurisu said. "We'll be okay. I promise."

At that the twins nodded and made their way out of the room, closing the door behind them. Kurisu then turned all of her attention towards Okabe.

"You haven't been hurt at all?" he asked.

"We're in Steins Gate, Okarin," Mayuri plainly stated. "You got us to this worldline so that Mayushii and Chris-chan would never get hurt. I promise, nothing's happened to me or anyone else from the lab for that matter."

Okabe exhaled very deeply, his shaking beginning to quell itself. Kurisu, satisfied with how well she dried her husband, took the towel away to uncover him. It was here that she got a proper look at his eyes. They were so full of pain, glowing with what seemed like tears. He was biting his lip to try to stop it from quivering, but he began to accept reality for what it was. Whatever happened to him, Mayuri, and Professor Leskinen was not real.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m sorry for waking you with these trifles, Mayuri.”

“There’s no reason to be sorry, Okarin. You were there for Mayushii when we were growing up. It’s only fair that I’m there for you whenever you need it here as adults. Are you sure you’re okay, now?”

“Yeah,” he replied, his eyes now looking up at Kurisu. “Thanks, Mayuri.”

Kurisu’s lips were slightly curled in a smile. Remaining as gentle as possible, she patted Okabe’s now-dry head.

“Of course!” Mayuri replied. “Mayushii is going to go to sleep now, but if anything happens, just let me know!”

“Thank you, Mayuri,” Kurisu spoke into the phone next to Okabe. “Have a good night.”

“Good night, Chris-chan! I appreciate the call.”

With that, the line was disconnected and the phone returned to Kurisu’s homescreen which had a picture of her, Okabe, and their children together at Disneyland. Okabe handed the phone back to Kurisu and got out of the covers to escape from the dampness of his side of the bed. Kurisu eyed him as he sat up to face her directly on the side of the bed, applying deep pressure to his eyes with his hands. He groaned before letting out a relieved chuckle. Kurisu’s heart broke a little bit as she was reminded of her loss. Usually after recovering from his night terrors, he would hold Kurisu close. That wasn’t the case this time around. She rubbed his back instead, keeping it together.

“Do you want to talk about the dream?” Kurisu asked, hoping he would since her mind was burning with questions.

“Not really,” Okabe replied. “But I know I need to get this out in the world otherwise I’ll kill myself from the stress.”

Kurisu sat there with Okabe as he recounted everything. Knowing that she was missing some vital context about what exactly happened on the Beta Worldline, he spoke at length about who Professor Leskinen was to him. Kurisu was mortified as she heard what Okabe had to say about the man that she looked up to as a father figure. Knowing him for as long as she did, the man that Okabe spoke about seemed completely alien to the man he was in Steins Gate. He then got to the specifics of the dream - how it was a vivid continuation of the Beta Worldline born out of the failure of Operation Skuld. She listened with horror as she heard him recount Mayuri’s brainwashing with shaky words. Then, the crux of the terror, and why he started screaming became apparent to her before he got to finish getting to the point in the dream where he woke up. Once he mentioned that Mayuri grabbed a scalpel, Kurisu knew exactly where he was going. 

Kurisu didn’t let him finish, placing a hand on his shoulder before he lost himself in his memories again. “Don’t force yourself, Okarin. All the questions I could have had are answered and you got the gist of what you went through out into the world. I’ll have you know, though, that Professor Leskinen is a harmless old professor emeritus at Viktor Chondria.”

“I would hope so,” Okabe breathed out a sigh after his long-winded summary. “His fate was the only one I was unsure of when trying to make Steins Gate a reality. I’ll be honest I was mortified - and admittedly still am - about the possibility of us being enemies in this worldline as well.”

“Oh, please,” Kurisu was quick to dispel his worries. “If anything, you two are like peas in a pod. Senpai and I know to steer clear if you overgrown children are in a room together.”

Okabe chuckled at her statement, allowing Kurisu to let out a small laugh of her own. She looked down at him expectantly, her hand still rubbing his back. She searched for the man she loved in the man before her as he absentmindedly looked forward just past her.

Feeling her gaze, Okabe’s eyes snapped to attention and he looked up at her from his seat. Once their eyes met, an apologetic smile formed on his face and he let his head rest on her belly. A little more content, Kurisu held him against her, letting her fingers run through his hair.

“I hope I didn’t scare you,” he said, his head still propped against her.

“Oh, no,” Kurisu replied. “It was absolutely terrifying. You have a lot of apologizing to do to our children.”

The answer prompted Okabe to break free from Kurisu’s stomach and look up at her, worry making its way across his face. Kurisu took the chance to cup Okabe’s cheeks with her hands.

“There is no shame in it, Okarin,” she comforted him. “Believe it or not, you’ve had these kinds of night terrors before. This one was just a little more on the intense side.”

She took the time to rub Okabe’s stubble with her thumbs. A selfish tic of hers that was not going to change regardless of what memories her husband had.

“Do they know about what’s happened with me?” he asked about the twins, still being forced to look at Kurisu.

Kurisu nodded. “I filled them in on the situation this morning while you were still asleep. They’ll be a little apprehensive of you, but at least they understand what’s going on.” 

Okabe’s face crinkled a little bit. No doubt, he was filled with regret as he was forced to reckon with not remembering his children and those same children not acknowledging him as a proper father because of it.

“Come on,” she leaned down to kiss his head and then let him go. “Get showered and out of these wet clothes. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“Thank you, Kurisu,” Okabe said as Kurisu went towards his dresser and pulled out his day clothes. “For everything.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replied, handing him the clothes. “I’ll be in the living room with the kids. Come join us when you’re ready.”

He nodded and disappeared into the bathroom. She hoped he wouldn’t need any help figuring it out - the shower controls were actually rather straightforward. She stuck around for a little bit just in case he came out in search of help, but once she heard the water running, she left the room to rejoin the twins.

When Kurisu emerged from the hall, she found Reina and Haruki sitting on the couch. Her footsteps made her presence known, prompting both of them to turn their heads in their direction.

“Did everything go okay, Mama?” Reina was the first one to ask, standing up to meet Kurisu where she was.

“Everything’s fine, sweetheart,” Kurisu responded, extending her arms out to hug her daughter. “It was just a really bad dream.”

“What kind of bad dream could lead someone to scream like that?” Haruki remained on the couch, chin resting on his hand as he looked at his mother.

“A really really bad dream,” Kurisu’s response was simple. “Papa’s had stuff like this happen to him before, we’ve just been really good at dealing with it before it blew up to that level.”

“But why would you hide stuff like that from us?! We’re your kids!” Haruki was quick to retort.

Kurisu was caught by surprise at the fact that her son raised his voice at her. However, all she could do was sigh, letting go of her daughter and getting on one knee in front of an indignant Haruki who did not move from his spot.

“Haru, there’s a lot of things that Papa and I didn’t want to expose you or your sister to. What he went through in 2010 was so unbelievable to me at the time because it was something that no human being - let alone a teenager - should have ever gone through. He was always very secretive, even with me, because he himself didn’t want to be reminded of those times.”

Haruki’s gaze was fully avoidant of his mother. She placed her hand on his knee, understanding of the betrayal he must have felt.

“Knowing you two and your scientific nature when you were growing up, we were certain you would have grilled him about that trauma,” she said. “Now that you’re more grown and able to practice a little more sensibility, I figured it was high time to come clean to the both of you.”

Kurisu turned to look at Reina who was still standing by the hallway, her hands clasped together forcefully in front of her as if she was trying hard to fight her shaking. “Are you sure you didn’t just tell us because of what happened to him? What else are you hiding?”

Kurisu started to feel her own spirit begin to crumble. She tried so hard to remain strong for the past few hours since Okabe lost his memories, but the lack of support from her kids and the need to be understanding of the new Okabe was beginning to get to her. She wished so desperately that she didn’t have to be the only one to be so supportive of him, but her wishes were not granted. She felt her lips begin to tremble.

“I… I’m trying to be as honest as possible…” her voice came out as a squeak. “There’s a lot about Papa’s experiences that I don’t know…”

“But you knew enough to know exactly what happened to him and why,” Reina was quick to interject. “Why did you both feel a need to hide his ‘Reading Steiner’ from us?”

“And why are you acting all happy and optimistic about this anyways? You have the means to bring Papa back immediately, but you won’t pursue it? The rebooted memories won’t even remember that he was replaced by that guy! Are you saying that you love this man whose memories replaced Papa’s?” The onslaught of her children’s questions and accusations began to stab at Kurisu’s heart, now undefended from the fortress that was her resolve. “Do you even want Papa back?”

She retracted her hand from Haruki’s knee and covered her mouth, feeling her emotions begin to overwhelm her. She vowed to never let herself lose control of a situation ever since her father nearly killed her in 2010. That vow was now broken as she was at a total loss on what she could even do to bridge the gap between Okabe and everyone else. She was an abject failure - a horrible wife who couldn’t help her husband in his time of need. She saw glimpses of him, but having known him as her other half for 25 years, glimpses were no longer enough to keep her heart full. As much as she tried to believe that her husband was the same person deep down, she was constantly reminded that things couldn’t be any more different. She didn’t know if she was even capable of loving this version of Okabe in the same way she loved the Okabe she made her memories with. She couldn’t even kiss him!

“I don’t know…” Tears began streaming out of her face as she sobbed the words she never wanted to admit. “I don’t know anything anymore…!”

Kurisu hunched over as her whole body began to shake. The world around her closed in on itself, the only inhabitant within it was now just her. Images of Okabe leaving her flashed within her head, promptly followed by the appearing figure of her father.

This is what you always do, she heard him say. It’s always about you .

Kurisu couldn’t even form any words to reject her father’s statement. 

When things don’t go your way, you become such an insufferable little bitch. You should have died that day. That was supposed to be your fate. But no, you get saved by your little knight in shining armor. And this is how you repay him? This is how you act in front of your children?

Kurisu could hear her father laughing at her. He made her painfully aware of everything she already felt about herself. Her sobs turned into wails as she felt her body be compressed. Her mind was completely lost to her grief.

Outside of her head, Reina and Haruki were absolutely stunned by Kurisu’s current state. One second she was trying to explain things to them, then the next she was hunched over on the ground sobbing uncontrollably in despair.

“Look at what you did, Haruki!” Reina yelled at Haruki as she rushed down to try and hug Kurisu.

“Me?!” Haruki yelled back, jumping from his spot on the couch to join the hug. “Can’t you take accountability for once in your life and admit that it wasn’t just me?!”

Setting aside their argument for the time being, the twins did all they could to console their mother, but she wasn’t hearing them. They each felt despair creep into their hearts, not knowing what to do. Never in their lives had Kurisu ever broken down like this in front of them. In fact, their mother was the shining example of keeping one’s emotions in check - they never thought her capable of something like this.

“Mama, please!” Reina was pleading with Kurisu. “It’s us! We’re sorry! We swear we didn’t mean to push you so hard!”

Reina watched in dejection as she felt her words go completely unheard by her mother. Haruki did his best to pry Kurisu out of her hunched-over position to get her to look at them, but his strength was incapable of straightening her neck. Slowly, surely, both halves of the Twin-Star Scientists began to lose their nerve, tears creeping into their eyes and panic setting in. Usually they would be able to trust their father to try and help, but their father wasn’t there. Instead it was a stranger who merely looked identical to their father. 

“Wait, Haru,” Reina’s eyes suddenly lit up with an idea. “Fill the jug with cold water again. We just need to shock her system enough to break her out of this like we did with Pa- that guy.”

At the revelation of Reina’s plan, Haruki nodded and ran back to the bedroom where Kurisu left the jug on Okabe’s nightstand. He heard the fan in the bathroom, a room occupied by the man who took his father’s place, but he paid it no mind and ran out of the bedroom. As quickly as he could, he went to the kitchen sink and ran the water, waiting for it to get cold again before filling up the jug. It was about a half-gallon, so it was relatively easy to carry when it was full of water, but it still took a considerable amount of time to fill up. After a very long minute of trying to get the water to cool down and filling the jug, Haruki ran from the kitchen and passed the hallway, ready to toss the water onto his mother. However, before he could commit to the act, a commanding voice froze him in place.

“Don’t even think about throwing that water on Mama, Haruki,” it sounded like it came from a speaker, but the voice behind the words spoken in Japanese was unmistakable.

Haruki’s attention turned towards the hallway, his mouth agape. Striding down the hallway was the man from World War III dressed in a black short-sleeve button-down shirt with an equally black set of slacks. However, Haruki’s attention was mainly on what the man held. At the end of the man’s outstretched left arm was his phone, the screen containing a spitting image of himself in a white lab coat with his arms folded.

“Papa…?”

All the man did on the screen was smile triumphantly as the one holding onto him immediately moved past a dumbstruck Haruki and towards Kurisu. Reina looked up from her spot of comforting Kurisu and also froze. Having closed the distance, the man kneeled down next to Kurisu, putting the phone next to her ear.

“What am I to do with you, Assistant?” The voice came softly out of the speaker and Kurisu’s shaking almost instantly stopped. “Only a couple hours after I’ve lost my memories and I find you like this. I suppose I should be grateful that you love me so strongly that you’re reduced to this for my sake. Though I’m as sorry as I am grateful. I was hoping you would never have to be put through this, my love.”

Kurisu looked up from her spot on the floor, eyes gleaming at the sight of who she saw on the phone screen. “Oka…rin?”

“Objective number one is a success,” the Okabe holding the phone said, his eyes looking sad, but otherwise he kept a rather neutral face and tone. “We have a base to work with.”

“And what a wonderful discovery to be made,” the Okabe on the screen followed. “For a minute I was doubtful of its possibility, but the only true way to test it was to have Reading Steiner happen and the results are nothing but miraculous!”

“You… you haven’t lost your memories of this worldline?” Kurisu was in a total state of shock, still recovering from her outburst.

“Not in the slightest, my dearest Christina,” the Okabe on the screen said. “I still remember everything about us and our little miracles. However, it seems a scolding is in order for everyone here.”

Okabe swung the phone around slowly, letting the camera’s lenses land on Reina and Haruki. There, on the screen before them, was their father’s consciousness in the form of A.I.. Before them was the answer to the very first question that everyone had on their mind the previous night. Before them was an Amadeus version of Rintaro Okabe unaffected by the worldline shift.

Chapter Text

Date: July 22, 2025 11:23:01AM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

"Yet another experiment that ends in failure," the 33-year-old Rintaro Okabe threw his hands up in frustration as he analyzed the screen before him. Deep in the recesses of the Viktor Chondria Institute of Neuroscience, he was one of very few who had unrestricted access to the main terminal of one of the world's most advanced creations: Amadeus.

"I don't understand this neurotic obsessiveness you have for this kind of study," a woman entered the room with two coffees in hand as he expressed his frustration. Kurisu Okabe, much like Rintaro, also had unrestricted access to what would be considered her own invention.

She set the coffees down on a nearby table as she spoke. "Changing the foundation of Amadeus for no real reason besides your whim does nothing but serve as stress for Amadeus while you berate it."

"Fear not, Assistant!" the A.I. version of Rintaro Okabe spoke from the terminal. "I can handle the ranting and raving of a madman. After all, it's nothing compared to your ever-present hysterical rage!"

Kurisu's eyes launched daggers from behind her husband towards the camera atop the terminal, making it clear that she was staring into Amadeus' soul. "Please run that statement by me one more time. I seem to have misheard you."

"Fear not, ma'am," [Okabe] rehashed his words. "I can handle the idiocy that emanates from the one whose memories I share. After all, you and your amazing technical and scientific prowess are the reason why I'm able to withstand anything at all."

"Coward," the real Okabe pointed his finger at the camera. "You know as well as I do that we mad scientists never waver in putting our lab members in their place. Don't let Christina's impertinence stand in the way of our grand... vision..."

Okabe's voice trailed off as the menacing aura that Kurisu emanated fully enveloped him. [Okabe], who was stuck in the terminal could only look with wide eyes while the owner of his original consciousness slowly turned around to face his wife. Her arms were crossed, her finger tapping her bicep as the object of her gaze shifted from Amadeus' soul to Okabe's soul. Despite her shorter stature, she watched Okabe begin to shrink from the power of her stare alone.

"So you mean to tell me that the thoughts expressed in the original statement were not a bug, Okarin? You think I'm in an ever-present state of 'hysterical rage'?"

It was a pointed question, one that Okabe had no chance of escaping from because of the hole he dug before anything even happened. No doubt, Amadeus acted just like her husband did in getting a rise out of her, but at least her husband would have probably had the wherewithal to omit the "hysterical" part of the statement. His silent opposition to answering the question that had no right answer only served to slowly twist Kurisu’s lips into a smile.

"You already know the consequences now, don't you dear?" she said, her strained smile now complete.

Okabe gulped, nodding his head. After nearly five years of marriage, he should have known the consequences all too well.

"Enlighten me, what were they again?" she cocked her head, her eyes still staring into the depths of his soul.

"You truly don't intend on having me list them out..." Okabe tried to protest, but the hiss that came out of Kurisu's nose merely served as confirmation of her demand disguised as a question.

"I'm in charge of cooking everything until all is forgiven," he began listing out the consequences and continued to do so at each nod of his wife's head. "I can't be Hououin Kyouma around the kids until all is forgiven. I can't spend any of our money on building any more future gadgets until all is forgiven. I can only refer to you as 'my darling wife' until all is forgiven. I must give you backrubs at your behest until all is forgiven."

Kurisu listened to Okabe list all the consequences, which she knew he was relatively okay with. He usually cooked most of the dishes; Reina and Haruki were already beginning to develop their own mad scientist personas at their young age; he hadn't started a future gadget project in recent months as he was too engrossed in his current project with Amadeus; and the lovey-dovey stuff that she demanded of him would be done at the drop of a hat if she ever asked. She only ever found the occasion to ask for extra whenever she was "punishing" him. She watched Okabe’s satisfied expression remain where it was as he moved to face Amadeus. There was no doubt that he thought about how easy he got off, but the uncomfortable silence that still permeated throughout Amadeus' Control Room forced him to pause. He turned his gaze back toward his wife who still looked down on him.

"And?" Kurisu broke the silence with the most damning clarifying question of the day.

"Please, no," Okabe began to beg for mercy as he knew just what she was thinking. Whenever she tacked this onto the list of consequences, it was when he knew that he was truly in trouble.

"Oh, yes," Kurisu whispered back at Okabe. "Say it."

"...No sex or activities related to it until all is forgiven..."

Kurisu immediately perked up and the strained smile turned into a legitimate one. "Perfect! I'm glad we're on the same page now."

Okabe slumped his shoulders. Sure, they didn't do it as often as when they first started dating given that they had children now, but she knew that it was still something for him to look forward to every now and again. He ripped that opportunity out of his own hands for the foreseeable future. 

He began to point an accusatory finger at the one who started it all. "This is your fault you damned traitor."

In response, [Okabe] merely shrugged his shoulders. "I may have started us down the path, but let it be known that your follow-up comment cemented your fate."

Okabe grumbled something incomprehensible in response, slouching his shoulders as he crossed his arms like an angry child.

"Anyways," Kurisu brought everyone's attention to her. "Back to the original topic at hand. Why are you bothering with this study? I get that scientific curiosity is good and all, but to alter Amadeus’ codebase with this destructive quantum interference algorithm you came up with would only damage what we’ve created. Your thesis gave us the route to perfect memory recall, why are you trying to change it?"

Kurisu could very easily find out if she interrogated [Okabe] while he was in emergency bypass mode, but the amount of trust that she would lose with her husband was a reality she never wanted to face. She knew just how protective Okabe was of some of his secrets and there would be no way that Kurisu would forgive herself for trying to pry them out of him when he wasn't ready.

"Call it a safeguard," Okabe responded. "It's just a personal endeavor. I backed up the original codebase so that it doesn’t get affected by what I’m doing."

"Okarin, if I knew more about what exactly it is you're safeguarding, I'm sure we can alter Amadeus' parameters more accurately. In case you forgot, Senpai and I were the ones who optimized the algorithms you gave us. If there's anyone who can make proper changes to the foundation, it would be us."

Kurisu was certain that Maho would be willing to help Okabe at the drop of a hat. Much like herself, Maho felt like she owed so much to Okabe for providing the critical algorithmic solutions that perfected Amadeus' Memory Storage Unit - the final piece of the puzzle to get the A.I. in a fully functional state. There was a lot that they let Okabe get away with when it came to Amadeus only because of this fact.

"I don't want you to spend any more time than you already are on a whim of mine, my darling wife," Okabe was already keeping true to the consequences laid upon him. "If I can't figure it out, then so be it. It's just a thing I'm testing with Reading Steiner, is all."

Kurisu glanced at Okabe in surprise as he shut down [Okabe] and began looking at the code within Amadeus. It was the first time he opened up about the true nature of the experiment besides it being "just a whim."

"Are you trying to unlock the memories from the worldlines you jumped into back then? Why would you put yourself through that?"

"No, nothing of the sort," Okabe was quick to refute her assumption. "Again, all I'm willing to say is that it's a safeguard that pertains to my Reading Steiner. I hope that's okay with you."

Kurisu didn't like it when Okabe was secretive like this. She knew about some of the traumas he was forced to go through while he was lost on the Alpha Worldline and how lonely he must have felt. She did her best to be there for him, but no one - truly no one - could ever relate to Okabe and his pain because he never willfully opened up about it. This was the one part of Okabe that she could never reach as he always shut down any potential conversation that could be had regarding what happened in 2010.

However, she knew better than most that once Okabe set his mind on something, he was going to see it through. She had faith that whatever endeavor this was, he would get the answer he was looking for.

She placed a tender hand on Okabe's shoulder as he typed into the terminal. At her touch, Okabe glanced up at her, a sheepish smile creasing his face. He grabbed her hand with his left and planted a kiss on it. "I promise I won't let this take away from our time together. Especially not with your birthday coming up."

As proof of his sincerity, he immediately dropped the Hououin Kyouma persona and wooed her with the sincere act of kissing her hand. She hated just how much this man made her heart flutter with just the simplest of actions.

"If you need any help Okarin," she said as he turned back towards the terminal and began shutting it down. "Please know that I'm here. You have many tools still at your disposal."

"A tool, you say?" Okabe cackled like an immature idiot. "I'm glad that my beautiful and indulgent Assistant knows her place in my- ow."

His comments quickly earned him a chop to the top of the head. "I wonder sometimes how I let myself get married to you."

"Well, you've always called me a charmer," he replied, fully turning his attention away from the terminal for once and facing her. "Or maybe, deep beneath that little veneer of loathing, you actually like it when I tease you like this."

His sincere smile twisted into an impish grin.

Emotions swirled within her as she attempted to grasp what he said. She heard the words, understood them, but for some reason they weren't being processed. Her genius mind kicked into high gear trying to find a rational way to refute Okabe's statement, but every logical means of approaching the topic was only met with the conclusion that his hypothesis was correct. She couldn't give him the credit. She had to find a way to turn the tables.

"Or maybe," she leaned down into his ear to whisper. "That dick of yours was just too good to let any other girl have."

At her statement, Okabe's ears immediately turned red. She herself would normally be embarrassed at what she said, but anything was better than admitting to her husband that she liked it when he teased her the way he did. All she could do was return the favor.

"W-wha...What," Okabe was incredulous as he shifted in his seat. "Christina - my darling wife - you can't just say things like that in the workplace!"

His words came out like a hiss, but she knew his other brain was getting excited. He tried to reach out and grab her, but she immediately slapped his hand.

"Oh no you don't, pervert," she tutted. "You're still not forgiven."

The anguish on his face was very apparent. "I could never imagine you to be this cold and mischievous."

"14 years of being in a relationship with someone like you will inevitably force a woman like me to learn how to fend for herself," she replied. "Anyways, you have a class to teach in 30 minutes, I think it's high time you go prepare for it."

"I was already way ahead of you," Okabe replied as he got everything in his bag in order.

He worked past Kurisu to grab his coffee from the table and then quickly placed a peck on her lips. "Thank you for the coffee, my love, but I must be off."

"Yeah, yeah," she said. "Go save the minds of our youth Hououin Kyouma-san."

"As if!" he retorted on the way out the door. "What kind of mad scientist wouldn't poison the minds of such impressionable young subjects?"

All Kurisu could do was chuckle to herself as her husband left the room. However, before she could get up to go to her own workstation, he quickly popped his head back through the door.

"Thank you for what you said earlier, my love. Just know that what you do for me is massive help as-is, so I couldn't ever hope to ask for more from you. Just keep supporting me the way you have been."

He winked at her then his head disappeared once more, leaving a very flustered Kurisu in her seat. She placed her face in her hands to combat the warmness that was invading her cheeks.

For the first time in the history of their relationship, Rintaro Okabe would be forgiven for his crimes within the hour of committing them.

Date: November 14, 2036 7:46:01AM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

It was a rather quick shower for Okabe. Being used to the need to conserve water on the Beta Worldline whenever they even got the chance to bathe, he became very efficient at cleaning himself even if he was initially thrown off-kilter by how advanced the shower itself seemed. It was one knob that controlled the amount of water that flowed out of the shower head and right next to the knob was a waterproof touchscreen that could be used to control the temperature of the water. Figuring out such a system probably cost him 30 seconds max of an overall two-minute shower.

However, as soon as he stepped out, he could hear Kurisu scream “I don’t know anything right now…!”

He could only assume that their children were grilling her about his current condition - their apprehensiveness entering full-swing as they witnessed a breakdown he never wished to have in front of anyone. His heart was pierced with guilt the moment he heard Kurisu’s cry, however he steeled himself and grabbed his phone from his nightstand before disappearing back into the bathroom. Thankfully, the phone accepted facial recognition as a pass key, so he didn’t have to guess his own password. Once unlocked, he quickly swiped through it, trying to find the one thing he felt could make or break the day. His eyes then landed on the Amadeus app, his breathing coming to a stop. He thumbed the icon to open it.

It took a couple moments, but soon after booting it, Amadeus’ black background came into view. A few more moments and his target materialized on the screen. Dressed in a white button-down, a loosened tie, and a lab coat, was the spitting image of himself. The man on the screen slowly opened his eyes in the same computer-like fashion as his digitized consciousness was booting up, however Okabe recognized the moment everything was fully booted and spoke into the phone before his A.I. self could speak.

“Answer me now and earnestly,” his voice was grave. “Do you remember saving Makise Kurisu on July 28th, 2010?”

[Okabe]’s eyebrows furrowed at the sudden seriousness with which he was regarded. “Yes…? Did I miss one of your experiments or did you wipe my memory banks again to toy with your Reading Steiner?”

Okabe’s heart skipped multiple beats as he exhaled very deeply. In spite of Reading Steiner’s activation, Amadeus’ memories were preserved. In the middle of the pause in the conversation, he heard a pair of footsteps rush into the room before very quickly exiting. His eyes locked onto the phone’s camera as he spoke.

“Reading Steiner activated,” he quickly explained. “I’m the one who sent you the video D-Mail back then. I need your help.”

[Okabe]’s face very rapidly cycled through different emotions at the words that his flesh-and-blood self spoke. However, in the end, resoluteness was the emotion he landed on.

“Lead the way.”

Date: November 14, 2036 8:04:20AM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

Okabe handed his wife a glass of water while she propped herself up on the couch. The morning was non-stop ever since she woke up, so for her sake, it was decided that everyone wait for her to fully recover before she continued to speak with Amadeus. In the meantime, Okabe handed his phone to the twins who very quickly took their A.I. father with them down the hall and disappeared into Haruki’s room. The way they regarded him hurt him in many ways, but the least he could do was be understanding of their plight. For the time being, he hadn’t proved himself to be their father the way he proved to Kurisu that he was the same man that she loved.

“I’m sorry,” Kurisu sniffled, still trying to recover from her breakdown. “I wish I was stronger.”

Okabe scoffed and kneeled in front of his wife in the same way that she kneeled in front of Haruki earlier in the morning. “You’re setting an impossible standard for yourself, my dear Assistant. No one - no one - could have handled this whole thing with as much grace and willpower as you have. To be able to be this way while the love of your life has effectively become a stranger is nothing short of amazing.”

Kurisu looked up, once again getting a sense of déjà vu from the words that Okabe chose to speak. Once again, she got a flash of her husband before reality settled back into place within an instant. There were so many things about the man before her that made her think she never lost the person she loved, but there were just as many things that served as a painful reminder that he couldn’t be any more different. At the surface level alone, her husband never chose to wear all-black except for if he ever attended funerals, like the one held for his father when he passed away at the onset of the 2030s. Yet here he sat, using that outfit as if it were a regular part of his wardrobe.

“You are such an enigma, Okabe Rintaro,” her eyes couldn’t meet his as she took a sip of her water.

“If Hououin Kyouma weren’t an enigma, The Organization would have already had me in their clutches by now,” he replied, letting out a cackle. “How would they predict my next move if not even my own Assistant can?”

Okabe tried his best to raise her spirits in his own way. He knew that the shortcut to doing so would be to get her face-to-face with Amadeus who contained all the memories she longed for him to have, but if she didn’t see him for him , there would truly be no point in any part of his current consciousness staying on the worldline. He didn’t want to give up on the hopes that his Steins Gate self had about potential co-existence. However, less than a day passed since his jump and his children already rejected him, and his wife was struggling in her own way to support him as much as she could.

Kurisu smiled, letting air blow out of her nose. He took the time in the silence to properly admire her features since there was daylight. Her chestnut-colored hair still shone as vibrant as it did when he first met her in 2010 with not a single gray strand in sight. It was much shorter, its longest point only barely reaching past her shoulders. He found this haircut infinitely more attractive as it only served to accentuate her soft facial features. She had a few smile lines that only became prominent when she did smile, but otherwise she was blemishless. 

The main difference between the face that he remembered in 2010 and the face before him now was that the passive intensity it contained had softened towards nonexistence. However, based on his interactions with her the night before, he knew she could pull out that same intensity at any moment. He admired her similarly petite form, covered by a slim pair of blue denim jeans and a plain pink blouse with a white cardigan - a casual outfit for a casual Friday. From these observations, Okabe felt that for all intents and purposes, Kurisu looked much younger than 44-years-old.

When that thought crossed his mind, he immediately remembered the problem he partially considered on his return trip from 18000 BCE before forgetting about it altogether. The moment he shifted out of the Beta Worldline, his body was technically that of a 35-year-old, yet here he was at 44 years old… or was he?

“Am I 44 this year, Kurisu?” Okabe’s sudden question surprised Kurisu, her eyes focusing back on him.

“Yeah… it’s still 2036 like it was in the Beta Worldline where you came from,” Kurisu answered hesitantly. “Why do you ask?”

Okabe shook his head. The prospect of him and his Steins Gate self both being men out of time was now objectively crossed out as a possibility. Did it have to correspond with how old his mind felt ? Given he saved Kurisu in 2010, his past self never would have had to experience the multiple-thousand time-leaps needed to get back to 2011 from 2036. Was that where he gained the years? That was the only viable hypothesis he had.

“Okarin?” Kurisu knocked Okabe out of his train of thought.

“It’s nothing important. Don’t worry,” he tried to wave her off, but it only seemed to fuel her curiosity even more.

“I’ve lived 25 years with a husband who kept a significant chunk of this worldline business to himself,” she said, setting her water on the table beside the couch and staring intently at him. “I let it go because I didn’t want to pressure you into reliving any of your traumas from the Alpha Worldline, but seeing as your secrecy kept me from knowing this could happen until the last minute, I’d like to start being in the know about things for once. Even if it’s innocuous.”

When she remarked about “this”, she gestured toward Okabe as if he were some unwanted object. He was sure she didn’t mean it that way, but it sure felt like it.

All Okabe could do was sigh. He was sure that his past self had his reasoning for not letting Kurisu know too much about Attractor Field Theory, but to keep things as barebones as he did with her was a step much too far even for his current self. The only reason why he survived the Alpha Worldline was because she helped shoulder the burden with him - he should have been able to trust her to do that in Steins Gate as well. 

“You’re right,” he started, finding his seat right next to her on the couch. “This amount of information should have never been kept from you to begin with. I promise I’ll explain everything I know to be true for both versions of myself once the kids are done with Amadeus, but for now I’ll answer your current question.”

Kurisu’s eyes widened in surprise. She must have not been expecting the whole truth when all she asked for was an answer to his admittedly weird question. He began his explanation, going into more specifics regarding the aftermath of Operation Altair - the operation to save Mayuri and Suzuha. He explained that, at most, he should have been displaced from the timeline by a few months, but due to complications on Valkyrie’s end thanks to the New Government’s persistent meddling, his rescue was delayed by nine years. He watched as Kurisu began to piece together where exactly he was going with his question, and then she covered her mouth.

“So you’re saying that you’re nearly 10 years younger than me mentally?” the tone of her voice was hard to read for Okabe. He knew she would have found it unbelievable, but he didn’t know if she was about to burst out laughing or burst into tears.

“Now, I wouldn’t rush to say that,” he said. “There were a lot of things that happened for me that I know didn’t happen for my previous self.”

He spoke about the memory-data that was stored in the time-leap machine when one of his initial jumps to try and save Mayuri and Suzuha in 2011 failed - how that data was used to revive his mind in 2036 after he was deemed brain-dead via the New Government’s torture in 2025. When he was forced to see the horrible state of the world first-hand, he decided then and there that he had to change all of it and time-leaped all the way back to 2011 - a journey that took him about 3000 leaps to complete.

Kurisu was entranced with Okabe’s story. Her hand had absentmindedly fallen to her side, mouth slightly agape as she took in the information that would have been kept from her if Okabe’s past self were inhabiting his body. A part of her felt grateful and a slight-bit giddy that this Okabe was much more willing to talk about the things that made her husband feel so out-of-reach at times.

“I know the timing of it all doesn’t exactly add to 10 years,” he admitted. “But the stress I put my mind through at the time more-than-likely aged me even more. That’s the only explanation I have. However, I do have to admit, there’s quite a bit more tightness and back pain in this body than the one I left behind in the Beta Worldline.”

Kurisu giggled at Okabe’s admission. “Unfortunately, our glory days are well behind us, darling.”

“Whatever do you mean?!” Okabe placed his hand on his chest in faux indignation. “I’m a 35-year-old in the prime of his life!”

“You can’t just give me that whole story about how you’re probably the same age as your past self mentally, just to take it back like that!” Kurisu’s own indignation seemed very much real as she smacked Okabe on the top of his head with one of the couch’s throw pillows. “Saying it like that makes me sound like some kind of cradle-robber.”

She crossed her arms and let out a sigh. For the first time since arriving on Steins Gate, Okabe felt himself relax and feel nostalgia course through him at the sight of Kurisu’s frustration.  This nostalgia pushed him to continue his teasing.

“If you think about it, you were already well on your way to being a full-blown scientist while I was still in my mother’s womb,” Okabe grinned as Kurisu processed what he was saying. “If anything, you’re much more than simply a cradle—”

He was interrupted by more beatings with the pillow. He raised his arms in defense, but even with these efforts, Kurisu managed to circumvent them and cycled her attacks between his head and torso.

“That’s enough on this topic!” she said mid-beating. “I hate that you managed to keep that stupid attitude of yours despite your loss of memories.”

She calmed down her attacks, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead and took a drink from the water that she left on the table beside the couch. Okabe jumped at the opportunity that presented itself.

“If you’ve been in a relationship with me for 25 years, that can only mean that deep-down you actually like being teased like this, Christina.”

Kurisu’s eyes snapped back at him, but the reaction she gave was not one that he was expecting. A grin that rivaled his own formed on her face and she got uncomfortably close to his ear to whisper.

“Or maybe,” he could feel her warm breath tickle his ear with every syllable spoken. “That dick of yours was just too good to let any other girl have.”

Every sort of thought process within Okabe’s head came to a full stop. He tried his very best to make sense of the words spoken to him, but his brain was short-circuiting as the image that his wife painted was the only thing he could think about. His lips began to move to form their own words, but with his brain not operating on the same page, all he could do was stutter incoherent thoughts. He felt his face get redder and redder — control of the situation slipped further and further away from him.

Kurisu simply laughed at his struggles. It was the first true laugh of delight he heard escape her lips in a long time. That laugh in itself was enough to help him mostly recover from the psychological attack she just put him through.

“I-I don’t know what you’re laughing at, Assistant,” he tried to regain control, gulping down his stutters as best he could while Kurisu closed the distance with him once more. “O-Of course I knew about that… we’re… we’re husband and wife after all! How else would we have our children?”

“Oh, do tell, Hououin Kyouma ,” Kurisu grabbed Okabe’s chin and turned him towards her, her lips mere centimeters away from his and her eyes piercing into his very being. “Would you like to know the exact details about the night we conceived the twins? It was such a passionate one.”

Mission failure. Whatever composure he regained in his half-hearted attempt to fight back was lost. His wife beat him thoroughly - though she had home-field advantage to work with. He couldn’t even blubber out a thoughtless reply, he was completely stunned. Kurisu let out a satisfied smile, her eyes twinkling due to her absolute victory over her husband - a type of victory that was a rarity for her to achieve. Having gotten the outcome she wanted, she let his chin go and re-opened the distance between them. To cleanse him of his current debuff, she ruffled his hair - an effective reset button!

“Since when did you get so good at fighting me with my own methods?” Okabe asked, rubbing the chin that was very squarely in her hands moments prior. “The 18-year-old you would have been satisfied with simply berating me.”

“Well that was how things usually went when we were younger,” Kurisu’s eyes flitted upwards in reminiscence of the past. “But as the years went on, I simply found that the most effective method of shutting you down was to beat you at your own game.”

A “Huh” of acknowledgement escaped Okabe’s lips as he processed what Kurisu said. He knew she wasn’t completely immune since he got a taste of what she was like in the past with the whole age-gap discussion, but now he knew he had to tread carefully lest he step on a trap she’d set for him. 

Kurisu eyed her husband in the midst of his processing, her own emotions in a tumultuous swirl. She so desperately loved the man before he lost his memories. However, this conversation alone was beginning to force her to see this man before her in a different lens. He was more open with her - more vulnerable, and yet he still retained that same devious personality that always challenged her - and allowed her to use old retorts to the same effect. This was no longer about trying to see her husband in this man. She could actually feel something form deep within her heart for the man as he was. It wasn’t enough to override her love and devotion to the lost memories of her husband, but now she felt that if she lost this version of Okabe, she’d lose the one chance she had to meet him at his level. She truly hoped that they were on the right track with Amadeus.

While the couple were lost in thought, their children slowly emerged from the hallway with Okabe’s phone in Haruki’s hand. Their expressions were solemn as they silently made their way to where Okabe was. Okabe eyed the both of them cautiously - as much as it hurt to do so - still operating on the knowledge that they didn’t exactly consider him their father. However, before he could consider all the possibilities of why they approached him the way they did, they tossed themselves into his torso and clung onto him tightly.

“I’m sorry, Papa,” Haruki was the first one to speak. “I’ll try harder to get through this whole thing with you and Mama.”

“Same here,” Reina followed. “I’m sorry for calling you ‘that guy’.”

“That guy?” Okabe was confused at Reina’s apology, but he didn’t bother trying to ask for clarification. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his children, rubbing their backs. He looked over at Amadeus who was now sitting on Kurisu’s lap since Haruki handed her the phone before latching himself onto Okabe. [Okabe]’s arms were triumphantly crossed, a grin on his face as he watched the situation before him. Okabe’s eyes then flitted up towards Kurisu who, despite her tempered reaction, seemed to radiate so much happiness at what she saw.

“Apologies accepted, little ones,” Okabe said to them both. “For now, let us consider this a plot from The Organization that we must foil. A true chance to show the world the terrifying power of Hououin Kyouma and his Twin-Star Scientists as we work to recover my lost memories.”

“I’m glad that you can still be ‘Boss’ even without your memories,” Reina laughed, letting go of him. “I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t be Amaterasu Kiyoko with you.”

“Arakawa Masamune would also be inclined to agree,” Haruki followed his sister’s actions. “Let’s show The Organization that we’re a trio that shan’t be trifled with.”

Okabe smiled. Whatever Amadeus said to the kids was incredibly effective and he couldn’t have been any more grateful. However, he still had gripes with the man responsible for the memories that the A.I. contained. Free from the clutches of the twins, Okabe got up from his spot and swiped his phone from Kurisu’s lap.

“You and I will have a talk later,” he said, his face and voice stern. “For now, know that you have my gratitude for helping me this morning.”

“Wait, wha-” [Okabe] tried to protest, but the app was swiftly closed and the phone was turned off.

Putting the phone back in his pocket, he beckoned his shocked children to sit on the couch beside their mother. They obliged, their hesitance of him returning.

“It’s been made clear to me that there have been some secrets left unsaid by the Papa you all knew,” Okabe began explaining. “This was not something I thought would happen in the aftermath of Operation Skuld, and I’d like to apologize on my own behalf for having kept these secrets from my own flesh and blood for as long as I have.”

Okabe paced back and forth as he spoke, commanding control of the room. He knew that he was about to open what his other self considered Pandora’s Box, but if he was to rally everyone together to help him, he needed to explain everything . In the back of his mind, he didn’t know if he’d be able to keep his composure as he recalled his summer from hell on the Alpha Worldline, but there was no way he could continue keeping his family - much less Kurisu - out of such a formative part of his life.

“What I’m about to share with you all is the true story of Hououin Kyouma from the moment Mama and I first met on July 28th, 2010 to when I saved her on that same day. This is the story of the world’s only known Observer, the only one whose consciousness can travel across worldlines… This is the story of how I sacrificed everything to save the ones I loved…”

He looked at Kurisu as he spoke that final line. His “everything” was her. In the end, he was glad he could get her back, even if it was 26 years later. Kurisu returned his gaze with a determined look. While she knew a redacted set of events, the full story was all she sought to coax out of her husband for years on end and here she was on the cusp of it. His children on the other hand, looked at him with a sense of wonder, eating up every word he spoke.

Okabe began to tell his story, starting it all off with the moment when a young Kurisu Makise pulled him out of Dr. Nakabachi’s Time Machine Press Conference mid-lecture.

Date: November 14, 2036 9:19:08AM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

“...And that is how I put together Operation Skuld, the completion of which was overseen by my other self as he was able to successfully save Mama on July 28th, 2010 without breaking the laws of convergence.”

Okabe scanned the couch for his audience’s reactions. He tried to cover every base, every emotion felt, every minute detail possible. It was something he felt that he owed to his family for keeping them in the dark for so long. His eyes landed on the children first who were in the act of wiping  tears from their eyes and applauding their father for the tale he told, as if he had just finished reciting some epic. Kurisu, on the other hand, was much harder to read. She was looking in his direction, but he knew she wasn’t looking at him. She held a contemplative pose, her hand covering her mouth in the shape of a fist and rubbed her upper lip as she processed his story. He didn’t know just how much his past self shared about that summer with Kurisu, but he knew for certain it wasn’t at the same level of detail with which he spoke. 

There were moments within the story that he nearly broke, especially when he began to recount Mayuri’s countless deaths, but he soldiered through and his family was gracious enough to give him all the time he needed to explain everything. Now, his stress transitioned from trying to get through his retelling of the summer of 2010 without breaking to gauging how exactly his wife would react. While waiting for Kurisu’s reaction, he began fielding questions from his children.

“So Big Sis Suzu was the one who helped you in both worldlines. Was she like your friend since you were the same age?” Reina was the first one to ask.

“Indeed,” Okabe replied. “She was an especially massive help in my timeline of events on the Beta Worldline… albeit a little more of a threatening friend to work with…”

He kept the story to the Alpha Worldline and the details of Operation Skuld, but if questions forced him to open up about his own experience on the Beta Worldline, he was more than happy to answer them.

“What was worse: dealing with SERN or dealing with World War III?” Haruki asked in turn.

“Both had their demerits,” Okabe began, not really thinking about comparing the horrible futures of either worldline. “In the Alpha Worldline where SERN was in control, it just felt like my every move was being watched. They had the help of worldline convergence, but for much of that time, it seemed like they knew what move I’d make before I even made it. The Beta Worldline on the other hand…”

Okabe’s voice trailed off as he thought of what to say. He was in the Beta Worldline for much longer than the Alpha Worldline so everything he bore witness to in that worldline took a much more prominent spot in his head. 

“...It was Hell on Earth because of the time machine race,” he simply stated. “I would hate to choose between both, but I guess I’d rather deal with a dystopian overlord than a lawless world held together with the societal equivalent of shoestrings and duct tape called the New Government.”

“I would have said the same thing!” Haruki yelled gleefully, happy to know that they agreed on a stance.

The children were very innocent. It was one thing to discuss hypotheticals, but he knew that both worlds were hells he would never want them to have to endure. As much as he preferred SERN to the New Government, it was like saying one preferred being drowned versus being burned alive - two outcomes that lead to death in their own way. However, now in Steins Gate, these questions would only remain hypotheticals, so Okabe just smiled at Haruki’s response. 

After a couple more innocuous questions, the twins turned to each other and began speaking about the highlights of Okabe’s story, all while Kurisu still stewed in her thoughts. As they did so, Okabe felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out to see who could possibly be calling him only for him to feel his mood diminish and his annoyance increase. The caller ID on the display was none other than Amadeus, no doubt his A.I. self getting impatient since it had been nearly an hour since he was abruptly hung up on. He figured that now was a better time than any to address his issues with his other self.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to take this call,” he said without much pushback thanks to the twins now being fully engrossed in their own discussion and Kurisu still remaining silent.

After a quick foray down the hall and back into the master bedroom, he answered the phone. When Amadeus fully booted up, he saw the same figure clad in white appear on the screen with his arms folded, his eyebrows twitching, and a clenched jaw.

“What’s the bright idea? Use me for your schemes in making my children like you only to shut me down once I helped you do your dirty work?” It was a very pointed accusation from [Okabe], one that Okabe knew he would make if he was bickering with someone.

“It seems like you forgot a couple important details in your bitterness my dear self,” Okabe spat his words back at Amadeus. “I told you we’d speak in due time, and that you very much had my gratitude for what you did. As it stands, now seems to be that ‘due time’.”

“And that ‘due time’ only came because I called you ,” [Okabe] was especially snappy. “What were you even doing for the past hour?”

Okabe felt a sense of undeserved entitlement coming from his A.I. self. He wasn’t angry at the man for keeping just about everything secret from his family, but he was definitely irritated. If he were placed in his other self’s shoes, he would have opened up just about immediately about everything . Without that vulnerability, just how genuine was his relationship with Kurisu?

“I was busy telling our family everything you neglected to tell them,” Okabe’s eyes narrowed into the phone’s camera as he tried to crush Amadeus’ entitlement with his words. “Makise Kurisu was our savior and our support in the Alpha Worldline. She had the right to know everything that occurred on that worldline so she could continue supporting you while you dealt with the memories of that hell.”

[Okabe]’s arms unfolded themselves and his face went pale while Okabe spoke. “You didn’t…”

A “Huh?!” instinctually left Okabe’s lips the moment Amadeus voiced his rejection of what he did. His irritation slowly began boiling into anger at the sight of the dumbfounded expression that was now on the A.I.’s face. He felt his free hand begin to shake from the bottled rage.

“That suffering was supposed to just be meant for us…” [Okabe]’s voice was a quiver. “...Why would you drag our family into it…?”

“I’m not dragging them into anything, [Rintaro],” Okabe’s voice was firm. “The Alpha and Beta Worldlines are well and truly behind us. They - especially Kurisu - deserved to know what was within the heart of Okabe Rintaro from the start.”

“But what if this knowledge makes Kurisu or the kids interested in time machines? What if they drag us back into those worldlines and we lose them all over again in the process?” [Okabe] began to ramble, listing hypotheticals that came with the total revelation of Attractor Field Theory. “We needed to keep that to ourselves. We needed to suffer through those memories and those experiences as much as we could by ourselves. You know what they’re capable of! The more they know about time machines, the more we risk going back!”

Amadeus was inconsolable. Okabe himself considered the things that the A.I. was saying in the back of his mind as he told his full story. However, he himself ascertained that there was no risk because, even if it had only been less than a day spent on Steins Gate, he knew he could trust his family to not pursue the dangers of time travel simply by asking. 

“Have you learned nothing of trusting your loved ones?” Okabe was disappointed with his other self. “We wouldn’t be where we are without our friends - without Kurisu. When we tried to carry the burden of saving Mayuri on our own, we failed time and time and time again. Tell me [Rintaro], how much damage did you do to yourself in that process? I sure as hell remember. As a matter of fact, enlighten me, when was it that we felt like we could actually break out of that vicious cycle? It was when Kurisu saved us of her own accord, was it not?”

“I-” [Okabe] wanted to continue fighting, but Okabe cut him off.

“She deserved to know. She earned that right the moment she sacrificed herself to save Mayuri.”

[Okabe] grit his teeth into a grimace, still stubbornly opposed to whatever Okabe had to say. It was almost like nothing could convince him that he was in the wrong. In the middle of the conversation, he heard the slight creak of the door from the bedroom begin to open, however at this point he didn’t care who was listening in on the conversation.

“Makise Kurisu and her work on the time machine was the reason why the Alpha and Beta Worldlines came about,” [Okabe]’s words came out with ardent aggression, no longer a scared quiver. “I needed to make sure that she never got back to redoing her theory. I had to do whatever it took to keep us from going back, even if it meant obfuscating the part of our life that made us fall for her in the first place.”

The last sentence spoken snapped the last bit of patience that Okabe had with his past self. His eyes flared open, his heart began to beat out of his chest, and his peripheral vision dimmed until the only thing he could see was the screen in front of him.

“ I did whatever it took to get us to this worldline!” Okabe’s fury erupted into a verbal lashing. “You know nothing of what I had to do to get the pieces together for you to save Kurisu! You know nothing of the people I had to sacrifice in the hopes of saving them again here in Steins Gate. You had to do whatever it took to keep us from going back? You must be even more delusional than what I initially took you for! Operation Skuld set everything up so that we never risked falling out of Steins Gate after its completion. All you had to do was tell the truth for why things should or shouldn’t be done, but no.”

Okabe pointed a finger at the camera. “You lied to the woman you apparently loved. You lied to the woman who I spent my entire adult life trying to save. She didn’t even know that she was the reason we returned to the Beta Worldline to begin with! Did she even really know you - know us? Tell me, were you using our memories of her from the Alpha Worldline to seduce her without telling her? That would be quite the heinous thing to do, don’t you think, [Hououin Kyouma]? ”

“It’s not like that—!”

“Oh ho? Then what is it like?” Okabe’s words spilled out of his mouth like venom. “I gave you the keys to a happy, genuine life in a world of peace, yet you couldn’t even be genuine with the one person who deserved it above everyone else.”

“She had her own burdens too!” [Okabe] tried to regain his place in the conversation, which Okabe only allowed because his outburst temporarily tired him out. “Who am I to add the ridiculous nature of our burdens on top of hers? She knew about what happened to Mayuri in those loops, she knew the general hierarchy of that worldline, she knew that we met on that worldline and that she helped me escape it, and she knew that time travel was involved - that’s all she needed to know to support me. She has her dreams, but she forgets their details almost immediately, so there was no need for her to learn anything from them. She didn’t need to know that we contributed to SERN’s dystopia with the time-leap machine; she didn’t need to know the specifics on how I escaped… I didn’t want her to know that I let her sacrifice herself just to save Mayuri… I didn’t want her to know that I… was the one who killed her in the Beta Worldline…”

[Okabe] was looking down for most of his response, but he looked back up, revealing the tears that threatened to stain his cheeks. “How can you tell the woman you love with all your heart and who loves you with all of hers that you killed her not once, but twice… ?”

Okabe was about to respond, but the voice that belonged to the person who entered the room behind him stopped him before he could get a word out.

“Because in the end I’m alive, happy, and healthy thanks to your efforts, Okabe Rintaro.”

Okabe turned to face the source of the voice. There, with her hands on her hips and her lips a fine thin line, stood Kurisu Okabe. Her own eyes were watery and red, but the firmness with which she entered the conversation betrayed the look she had.

“Kurisu…?” [Okabe]’s voice cracked. “...How much did you hear…?”

“From the moment you started justifying why I couldn’t be trusted,” she replied, closing the distance between herself and Okabe to get a better view at Amadeus. In reply, Okabe simply handed her the phone, letting her have her own say.

“Even after all these years…” the firmness in Kurisu’s voice began to fade once she got a good look at [Okabe]. “...You didn’t trust me with any of that information…?”

The tears in Kurisu’s eyes began to make their way down her face, her feelings of betrayal fully realized.

“No, my love, I—”

“Don’t ‘my love’ me, Amadeus,” Kurisu was quick to snap in anger, separating the A.I. from Okabe’s past self. “I allowed myself to be completely vulnerable with you. I exposed everything negative about myself to you because I trusted you. This part of you, the part that this man here was willing to share, always felt so out of reach. And you willingly kept it that way because you couldn’t trust me to keep a secret? Because you couldn’t trust me to still love you in spite of what happened in the process of reaching Steins Gate? Did our wedding vows mean nothing to you?”

All both Okabe and [Okabe] could do was remain in stunned silence. Okabe knew it meant a lot to be genuine with Kurisu, but he never would have expected this level of anger out of his wife. Granted, if he were to find out a truly vital piece of Kurisu’s backstory - like that her own father tried to kill her - 26 years after starting a relationship with her, he was sure he would have felt betrayed as well. [Okabe]’s continued silence only made Kurisu shake more, her hold on the phone no longer secure.

“...I would have still loved you with all my heart…” Kurisu sobbed at the camera on the phone. “...If you told me about Attractor Field Theory and asked me not to pursue it… I would have done it…”

Okabe placed his hand on Kurisu’s shoulder as her composure slowly began to crumble once more. At first he thought she would have swiped it away or rejected him outright, but to his surprise, she took it as an invitation to fully lean against him where he was able to wrap his arms around her. [Okabe] could see it all clearly from the phone’s camera, knocking him out of his stunned state.

“Kurisu, please,” he began to plead. “I did trust you. I just couldn’t trust the world around us. You are the single-most important person in this world to me besides our children — I need you to know that.”

“I don’t know what I know…” Kurisu dug her face into Okabe’s chest, making her words come out softly as a result. “...I just… I just need time to process this…”

With that, Kurisu hung up on Amadeus, threw Okabe’s phone on the bed, and let herself be fully embraced by her husband. She let herself cry freely into his shirt while Okabe rubbed the back of her head to comfort her.

“Why could you trust me… but the one I made all my memories with couldn’t?” Kurisu’s voice shook in a way that bordered towards sobs.

“Life experience,” Okabe recognized the irony of his words given he was technically nine years younger, but it didn’t stop him from making the statement. 

His eyes trailed upwards as he recalled his experience in the Beta Worldline. “I was a lot like that when I got re-involved with time travel in the Beta Worldline - always trying to shoulder the burden myself to stop people from toying with it. For a long time I fought to keep the Beta Worldline as it was because if I let the worldline switch back to Alpha, it would have made your initial sacrifice meaningless - which you didn’t want.”

Kurisu’s sobs steadied as Okabe spoke about his brief return to the Alpha Worldline in 2011. He made it clear how every part of him wanted to stay despite the pain of losing Mayuri, but it was Kurisu who pushed him to return to the Beta Worldline. It was because of this push that he vowed to not let anyone tamper with time to risk going back to that worldline - even going against his own friends at certain points.

“It took Daru, Mayuri, and even Maho to make me see the damage I was doing by trying to carry all the pain by myself. If I trusted them from the beginning, I would have found the path to Steins Gate much sooner. It was because I trusted them in the end that I was able to find the resolve to fight for that path. They’re why I decided not to shoulder my burdens on my own anymore.”

Okabe looked back down at Kurisu who was already looking up at him. Her crying had quelled, but her eyes were still watering. Overcome with some sense of protectiveness, he parted her hair and slowly, hesitantly allowed his lips to lightly brush her exposed forehead.

“I’m sorry it took this long for you to learn the whole truth,” he whispered to her, looking into her eyes. “And I’m sorry it didn’t come out of my mouth when I had my memories of us still intact. You’re allowed to be as angry as you want. But if I know myself - which I feel like I do - please believe Amadeus. What happened came from a place of irrational fear. The fear of losing you overrode everything else.”

Kurisu felt herself get lost in the universe that sparkled within Okabe’s dark eyes. Not even eight hours ago, she couldn’t stand the sight of the man who “replaced” her husband. Yet there she was now, being comforted by him as she tried to overcome the deep sense of betrayal she felt within her heart inflicted by the man she thought she knew. She felt her heart get torn asunder by the one she trusted deeply only to have it be carefully put back together by the one she initially could only regard with surface-level interest at best. 

However, despite this Okabe’s attempts to rebuild the bridge between herself and his past memories, she couldn’t give a damn about what Amadeus and Okabe’s past self thought. Whenever she thought of either of them, she felt her heart begin to race and her body begin to tremble with anger. Just as this Okabe said: they lied to her through simple omission alone. They didn’t trust her anywhere near the same level that she trusted them. They let fear override their supposed “genuine love” for her when it was always the other way around for her. 

“Okarin…” Kurisu’s voice came out soft.

All Okabe did was continue looking at her with those very same soft eyes that made her feel the most seen she could ever feel. He waited on her to speak, but he didn’t seem like his very existence relied on what she said next. She didn’t feel afraid to admit what she was about to admit only because of this gaze alone.

“I think…” time slowed as Kurisu began to speak. “...I think I’d like for you to stay as you are… for just a bit longer…”

Okabe’s eyes widened briefly at Kurisu’s words before softening again. The surprise on his end beckoned an explanation from her.

“I haven’t given up completely on restoring your memories… it’s just that I’m scared that if we do… we’ll - I’ll - risk feeling like I can’t be trusted again… and that hurts so much…”

Tears rolled down her cheek once more, but Okabe was quick to catch them, rubbing them away with his thumb.

“We don’t yet know what it’ll take to merge me as I am now with me from the past, my love,” an angel was speaking to Kurisu in the form of her husband. “Let’s work on getting that process done and we can decide then. I’ll be as I am the entire time that we do.”

His words made sense, but bringing her mind back to Amadeus and his past self’s memories only brought her more grief. It brought back the heartrending feeling of betrayal. Feelings that would only evaporate if she allowed her mind to trail back to the person he was at this very moment.

“I can’t… I can’t face Amadeus right now,” she shook her head, letting her tears fly.

Kurisu watched as Okabe’s eyebrows turned upwards, a grimace planting itself on his face. This in itself nearly broke her, but before the look did any more damage, it was quickly replaced with the soft, comforting gaze that he had ever since he started holding her. She desperately didn’t want this man to disapprove of her.

“You’ve been brave in sharing your deepest self with me over these few decades,” he said. “It’s a selfish request, but I need you to be brave on this for me too. I mean, if we succeed, we also have the hope that I retain my more open personality and add those precious memories to it. We’ll never know until we try.”

The scenario that Okabe painted worked to elevate Kurisu’s sunken heart by a little bit. She saw the merit in what he was saying, but she realized that only time - time with him - could bring her back to her full spirits. 

“Okay…” she said, blinking away her tears. “But can I at least have a week before we do anything?”

Okabe smiled. “That sounds like a fair compromise to me.”

Kurisu felt her heart flutter at Okabe’s smile, complicating the journey that her emotions had been on since his memories were first replaced. Her mind raced back to the summer of 2011 when she first realized that the feelings that she had for Rintaro Okabe were romantic ones that she could no longer ignore. She felt those feelings surface as she spoke to Okabe over the course of the morning, but here in this moment, they completely boiled over, begging for a proper release.

“For now, I can return the favor and fill you in on what you missed in the past 26 years,” she grabbed his face with her hands as she spoke. “Starting with this.”

Kurisu gently pulled Okabe’s face down to her as she got onto the tips of her toes to go up to him. Her eyes closed as her lips connected with his. Okabe, stunned for a moment, pulled her into himself by the waist, allowing the kiss to deepen itself naturally. In response, she let go of his face and wrapped her arms around his neck, letting herself hang on to him as their lips did all the talking for them. She could feel the breaths he tried to contain come out of his nose each time their lips parted momentarily only to be rejoined with ever-increasing passion. It was a tug-of-war that they played — Okabe’s lips being pulled into Kurisu’s each time her lips pulled away and Kurisu’s hungrily chasing Okabe’s each time his own pulled away.

A faint smell of coconut wafted its way into her own nose while they played this back-and-forth - during the shower Okabe had inadvertently used her shampoo. The hilarity of it made her break the kiss with a smile, her mouth still mere centimeters from his while they remained holding onto each other.

“Looks like I’ll have to teach you quite a bit about this worldline,” she forced her breath into each word, the air that each syllable produced hit Okabe’s lips in equal intensity. “There’s so much for you to experience for the first time again.”

“R-Really now?” Okabe tried to keep up with Kurisu, but his social inexperience made itself present as she could feel the warmness emanating from his cheeks and the lack of surety in his voice. “Like what?”

In response, she pushed him off of her and onto the dry part of the bed. Like a lioness stalking her prey, Kurisu slowly approached Okabe, slipping off her cardigan, undoing her blouse, and revealing her white bra underneath. She carefully climbed on top of Okabe, placing herself squarely on his waist and bent down to his face. 

Okabe was red in the cheeks due to the scene he was partaking in. However, as red and shocked as he was, it wasn’t out of lack of want.

“W-What about the kids…?” his head turned towards the wide-open door that led to the hallway.

“I sent them off in an Oober to school,” she purred in response, grabbing his head and twisting it back to her. “The Tale of Hououin Kyouma was enough for them to leave the apartment satisfied.”

Shortly after Okabe disappeared into the bedroom with Amadeus, the twins actually brought it up to her that they themselves were ready to go to school. Happy to oblige them, she ordered them an express Oober and sent them on their way, telling Reina to text her once they made it.

At her answer, Kurisu saw some of Okabe’s redness fade away. That in itself made her glad as it meant the rest could only be taken away with what she had in store for him. She let her lips get a taste for his once more as she began to undo the buttons of his black shirt. Once his shirt was fully undone, Okabe surprised her by forcefully grabbing her waist where her pants met her exposed torso. The warmth of his fingers, combined with the suddenness of the move sent a jolt to her core. She was beginning to get even more excited.

She sat up and undid her bra, fully exposing her chest to this Okabe for the first time, and guided his hands from her waist to her breasts, forcing him to get a good hold of them. It was one thing for her to play with them on her own, it was another thing entirely when Okabe himself played with them, but the feeling she got from forcing Okabe to play with them how she wanted was absolutely electric. Almost unconsciously, she felt herself begin to grind on his waist, the warmth she felt in her core beginning to spread throughout her body. She looked down at the man whose face was clouded over with pure lust before taking his hands off of her and pinned them down to his sides with both her arms. This move, naturally, brought her chest and face up against his own. She playfully brushed her lips against his before leaning closer to his ear, still grinding herself on his waist.

“Just this once,” her lips were practically against Okabe’s ear as she whispered. “Let your Assistant do everything… Kyouma-sama~”

At the soft utterance of her words, Kurisu felt something poke at her bottom despite the fabric that stood between her and the cause of the poke. A satisfied smile crept across her face - the seduction of Rintaro Okabe was complete. With that, she began her work of re-teaching him everything that came with pleasuring both her and himself.

Date: November 14, 2036 10:58:40AM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

Kurisu was still struggling to get her heartbeat down from what she just experienced with Okabe. She knew that the man had endurance, but to last nearly 45 minutes in combined foreplay and actual sex on top of making her feel as good as she did was absolutely unbelievable. 

Once he finally finished, she dragged him into the shower with her and showed him which products were hers and which were his. They exchanged turns washing each other and then very quickly found themselves in bed once more once Kurisu swapped out the sheets for cleaner ones. Somewhere in the middle of their session, Reina texted her saying that she and Haruki planned to stay a couple hours after school to make up for what they missed, so knowing that they would be back late, Kurisu just opted to get under the covers naked, prompting Okabe to do the same.

She laid in bed cuddled up with Okabe, stroking the hair on the arm that he had across her chest while she was deep in thought. Now that she was coming down from her excitement, she could slowly feel guilt creep into her soul. It hadn’t even been a day and Kurisu already began to feel love for someone who wasn’t her husband. She knew that, by the standards that Okabe set, they were just about the same man, but there was a part of her that could no longer consider them the same person – especially after she discovered their opposing philosophies regarding the openness with which they would share their experiences with time travel. She also couldn’t believe that she blurted out a desire to delay getting those precious memories back. How much of that feeling was genuine? How much of that was just her getting back at those past memories for having betrayed her? 

She turned her head towards Okabe. His eyes were already closed and his breathing had taken the same rhythm it usually did when he was asleep. Watching him like this only served to worsen the feeling that began to consume her, as she felt her heart flutter for this man only for the fluttering to stop when she allowed herself to think of what he was like before. Within the day of his arrival, Kurisu Okabe - from her point of view - had inexplicably and unforgivably made love to the Rintaro Okabe who hailed from the Beta Worldline and betrayed the vows she made to her husband from before. However, to anyone who knew of her plight, namely the man who was the current object of her desire, it would have been obvious that what it took was showing a level of trust that hadn’t been granted to her for nearly three decades - a level of trust that finally let her stand on even ground with the love of her life.

Chapter Text

Date: March 28, 2018 5:26:39PM JST

Divergence: 1.123581β

The sun began to dip low behind the dilapidated buildings that lined the edges of the old Shibuya Crossing. At each intersection, there was the occasional abandoned car, rusted and torn apart by scavengers ever since the onset of the war. Standing tall above the black soot that came from the flames that once blazed across the entire city was the Shibuya 107 tower, however anyone who wasn’t local to this part of Tokyo wouldn’t have known what it was given the signage, as well as the facade that faced the street, was completely gouged out by bombs that hit it. The sounds of Humvee engines echoed through the streets as, what once was a popular sightseeing destination, became a common passageway for the freshly-established New Government and any rebel forces conducting covert operations.

The convoy of Humvees in this particular instance belonged to the most-wanted terrorist organization in Japan: Valkyrie. Five cars in a row, each carrying four people zoomed along, treating the city-center as if it were a highway, zooming along down the path that naturally cleared up over repetitive use of the route. They had to be quick - having staged a diversion at the Gotokuji temple in Setagaya to the west, they hoped to pull away any potential reconnaissance forces from watching the Crossing and beelined it north to go to Ikebukuro in order to get to Akihabara. The route they took was an odd one — usually it would be a straight line to go from their initial pick-up point at the Haneda Airport towards the old center of moe culture, but new routes were devised by the New Government to prohibit entry into one of the world’s most dangerously irradiated places. It was the perfect hiding spot - who would be stupid enough to build a base of operations in a town flattened to nothingness? However, the only way they could get into Akihabara was through an abandoned tunnel system on the outskirts of Okabe’s old home town. 

Rintaro Okabe usually kept things much more quiet than using a full convoy to get back to Valkyrie’s headquarters, opting to travel during the day under the guise of a citizen of the New Government from operation center to operation center until he could reach the tunnel beneath Ikebukuro that led to their destination. However, the sheer importance of their pick-up demanded a rapid transit that couldn’t be done in the light of day. If the New Government caught on to their ploy before they made it back to Akihabara, the streets would be swarmed with peacekeepers in search of the scientist that Professor Alexis Leskinen held dear to his heart.

Seated in the driver-side backseat of the third car within the convoy, Okabe maintained a steady grip on the pistol holstered to his vest with his left hand. He was much more dressed up than usual - a black long-sleeve undershirt, a pair of black cargo pants that contained his spare ammunition and small medical supplies, combat boots that went as high as his shins, and a tactical armor vest that had his radio and pistol strapped to it. The look was completed by his tattered lab coat that he’d held on to since the onset of the war: the defining feature of Hououin Kyouma. Next to him on the passenger-side backseat was the person of interest, one of the only people in the world whose drop-off he would personally oversee.

Maho Hiyajo shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Unlike just about every other person in the convoy, she was just dressed in her pajamas so that she could remain comfortable in her long flight from America to Japan. Thanks to the importance with which Professor Leskinen regarded her, the New Government agreed to transport her to Japan to help him as his own personal assistant. However, what neither the Professor and the New Government knew was that Maho’s aim in coming to Japan was to assist the very people that they hunted. Using a cipher developed by Daru, Maho was able to communicate with Valkyrie on a plan to pick her up from the airport under legal means, then transfer her to the convoy that she was in now. It was by no means a foolproof plan - information could have leaked, the cipher could have been cracked, Maho could have been a mole for the New Government, and the information regarding the safety of the route could have been false - but Okabe had to place all his faith in it to work. He needed her intellect to help work on the time machine.

“All clear signal received,” Okabe’s radio chimed, the voice belonging to a young Luka Urushibara. “Full speed ahead.”

At the command which came from the leading car, the speed of the convoy rapidly picked up, climbing to as high as 110KPH. At the sudden surge, Maho grabbed whatever she could find to support herself, that “whatever she could find” turned out to be Okabe’s arm.

“You could have just said you missed me, Hiyajosephina,” Okabe smirked at the woman who was much too terrified to be embarrassed. “You didn’t have to throw yourself on me to prove your loyalty to the one and only Hououin Kyouma.”

Maho clicked her tongue. “Is now really a good time to start with the jokes, Okabe-san?”

She remained holding onto him as with the increase in speed came the increase in bumps on the road.

“Have our seven years apart made you so forgetful my Little Assistant? My name is Hououin Kyouma.”

“Who died and made me your assistant?” 

Okabe kept a small smile on his face as he looked ahead, free hand still placed securely on his gun. As a citizen of Japan during the years that World War III ravaged the world, his primary focus was on surviving and building out what he could remember of Kurisu Makise’s time machine theory from scratch in the confines of the bunker located within Faris’ highrise. Now, a few months into this new world order created by the ceasefire agreement to end the war, everything he spent theorizing for the past 7 years required practical application - the former one, the Time-Leap Machine that Maho and Daru created, having been burned along with the rest of Akiba. He formed Valkyrie with the people who joined him in that bunker —  now expanded into a full HQ away from the watchful eye of the New Government — but Maho was one of the ones who didn’t join him. 

When the first rockets were fired at the top of Radio Kaikan to spark the beginning of the war, Okabe pushed a hesitant Maho to return to America via the evacuation zone in Okinawa to be with her family. The act of returning doubled as a way to keep her safe since the primary warzone was going to be in Japan. He could count his lucky stars that he was able to corral the rest of the lab members to join him in Faris’ bunker to wait out the end of the war. It was one kept off the books, so the Japanese government — and in turn the New Government — had no record of anyone from the lab finding their way into a legally-recognized bunker. For the past six years, they were considered dead on official records, able to forge new identities when they used the extensive tunnel network beneath Faris’ highrise to resurface in Ikebukuro following the war’s conclusion.

Despite their legally-dead status as individuals, the name Valkyrie popped up on every watchlist around the world over the past couple of months — the promise of the collapse of the current world’s neo-fascistic ruling structure being a dangerous message that the powers at be couldn’t allow. Little did they know that the one thing that would lead to their collapse would be the development of the time machine. Though Okabe knew just from the last time he was in the future, Valkyrie’s work on the time machine became exposed to the New Government. It was only a matter of time before they were discovered and their lives became infinitely harder.

“Ever since I got into this car, you haven’t let go of that gun…” Maho eyed Okabe carefully. “...You seem so much more different from the last time I saw you.”

“I know nothing of what you speak of, little girl,” Okabe scoffed. “I’ve been the same Hououin Kyouma ever since you first helped me reawaken from my slumber.”

“So I see it’s just the aesthetic that’s changed, huh,” Maho’s eyes narrowed at Okabe’s nicknames for her. “Next thing you’ll say is that you’re just holding on to a prop and not an actual killing device.”

“On the contrary, it’s the real deal,” he looked over at Maho, whose narrowed eyes widened at the confirmation of the gun’s authenticity. “But worry not, it’s just a precaution I must take. I’ve only ever used it for target practice and I don’t intend on using it out in the field.”

Okabe spoke the whole truth to Maho. He has killed someone before. He felt the heaviness that a body would take on when a person’s life was extinguished. He was always haunted by those dying breaths even to this day — the dying breaths of Kurisu Makise. He could never imagine willfully repeating that process with another human being.

“If you say so…” Maho took her eyes off of Okabe and looked ahead at the road. “...How is everyone?”

“They’re doing good,” Okabe decided to drop the haughty tone he usually used when speaking as Kyouma. “Everyone was able to make it through the war safe and sound thanks to Faris’ efforts.”

“I’m… I’m happy to hear that,” Maho choked out her words. She seemed to have been worried about everyone from the moment she left for America. “I’m so sorry I left.”

Okabe spotted Maho’s lips quivering and a trail of tears forming on her cheeks. Trying to see things from her point-of-view, he could understand the guilt she may have felt. As much as World War III ravaged the world, the damage done in America was nowhere near the same as what happened in Japan. Maho got to enjoy the privilege of not being in the center of a warzone like the rest of the Future Gadget Lab.

“Don’t forget that I was the one who urged you to leave, Hiyajo-san,” Okabe referred to Maho by her proper name for the first time since she left Japan, completely dropping all pretenses of his Kyouma attitude to comfort the crying woman.  “If anything, I’m sorry for dragging you back into this mess.”

Maho had the opportunity of a lifetime to be an important person within the New Government’s hierarchy thanks to her closeness with Professor Leskinen (who never found out what she did at the Future Gadget Lab before the war). However, instead she chose a life of constantly looking over her shoulder and inevitably being branded a terrorist just for Okabe’s sake. 

“Don’t be,” she sobbed as she tried to use her sleeve to wipe her tears. “I want Steins Gate to happen.”

Okabe opted to remain silent while Maho, who still gripped onto his arm, calmed herself down. The sobs eventually turned to sniffles which eventually turned to just the background noise of a roaring engine.

“And you don’t have to be formal and use my last name,” Maho added unexpectedly. “‘Maho’s’ just fine.”

“Oh?” Okabe let out a little cackle. “What about Hiyajosephina?”

“I’d sooner rat you out to the New Government than allow that.”

It was a level tone — a joke by all means — but the joke made the two Valkyrie members in the front seat turn towards her. In the driver seat, a man that Okabe was able to recruit following a checkpoint-search that left him nearly crippled by the name of Satoru Ozawa, in the passenger seat a woman who was recruited at the war’s conclusion by the name of Fumiko Bando. Both were masked and wore sunglasses since they had to hide their identities, much unlike the exposed Okabe. Thanks to the assortment of wigs and cosplay materials at Faris’ disposal when they initially went into hiding, Okabe’s daytime identity was a man with blonde hair and blue eyes, a Japanese-American by the name of “Chris Kurokawa” — the first name being an ode to Kurisu Makise.

The suddenness with which their heads snapped in Maho’s direction made the woman flinch and tighten her grip around Okabe’s arm. “I-It was just a joke… I wouldn’t do that.”

The two then looked at Okabe who nodded his approval before turning back towards the road. Based on the speed that they were going, they were no more than five minutes out from where they needed to be in Ikebukuro, however it was about a two hour walk underground from there, one that he hoped Maho was ready for. They were five minutes away from the home stretch.

And those five minutes passed without incident or without another word said from either of the pair. Maho was much too frazzled by the sudden scare and Okabe was just silently hoping that everything was uneventful. His car pulled up to the entrance of the tunnel, prompting him and Maho to get off. Maho had her luggage bag, Okabe carried the extra backpack that she packed. At the entrance to the tunnel system which started at the subway station, Okabe took his hand off his gun to speak into the radio.

“Kyouma moving with VIP to HQ,” he said. “Warrior Actual, proceed to Operation Center Delta, we shall reconnect once we reach our destination. Warrior 4, I appreciate the lift.”

Warrior 4 was Satoru. The entire convoy in itself was under Luka’s command as he found his knack for strategy during the downtime of the war. This plan to get Maho to Akihabara was one that was mostly designed by him.

“Copy, Kyouma-san,” Luka spoke back into the radio. “Warrior Squad moving now.”

At that, Okabe heard the distant revs of the Humvee engines before promptly being shrouded once more in silence.

“This is going to be a long walk,” he warned Maho. “If you need a break, let me know. There’ll be plenty of times where you’ll have an escort in and out of this tunnel system, but start trying to memorize the route we take. It’ll be a maze.”

Maho gulped as she looked down the dark passageway. Once a place where trains would go and people would gather, it was now just a damp void threatening to swallow her whole. “...I understand.”

And so they walked. Now that it had been years, Okabe knew the tunnel system like the back of his hand, not hesitating for a bit whenever the path they were on split to different passageways. There were times that on their walk, Maho got carried away and tried to walk the path herself only for Okabe to pull her back down the correct way. Throughout the walk they spoke, trying to catch up on how things went for the last few years. Thankfully for Maho, she and the rest of her family were perfectly healthy and had a place in one of the less-rowdy zones of control in Los Angeles. However, he could see Maho grimace when he revealed that his family unfortunately did not meet the same fate. When the initial firebombing campaign began, Ikebukuro got hit, setting the grocer that his parents owned alight with them still inside of it.

Their conversation then turned to Maho’s own work on the time machine theory as they started comparing mental notes. Throughout the conversation, Okabe found himself being corrected constantly by the woman, but with each correction brought excitement as it just meant that work on the actual time machine could proceed at a faster pace. During the gaps of their conversation, all that could be heard was the rolling wheels of the luggage bag that Maho dragged along behind her.

Maho toughed out the whole walk. There were times where her pace reduced drastically, but not once had she asked for a break. Okabe looked down at his watch, the time reading 7:56PM - by his estimations, they were directly underneath Akihabara by this point. All that remained was a couple more forked paths and they would reach the entrance to their hideout.

However, as they walked, Okabe could not shake the deep sense of foreboding he felt invading every pore of his body. He raised his hand to Maho, ordering her to stop. When she did, the sound of the rolling wheels ceased and they were engulfed in silence… which was intermittently broken up by a male voice he didn’t recognize. As they waited, the voice progressively got louder, whoever it was was walking in their direction. Okabe quickly unholstered his pistol, pointing it down the tunnel as he picked up Maho’s rolling bag and beckoned her to join him in hiding in one of the many dark corners of the expansive tunnel they were in.

Very shortly, light belonging to a flashlight appeared out of the passageway that they were supposed to go down. Okabe tried his best to steady his breathing, both hands now on his gun as he waited to confirm the identity of the voice. He truly hoped it was someone from Valkyrie who forgot to check in on the radio. Despite the steadiness of his hands, his very soul was quaking.

“...-not gonna use fucking resources to get me,” the voice became clearer. It sounded like it belonged to someone in their teen years on the verge of a mental breakdown. “What the fuck am I supposed to do? Why would they send me down here if they were just gonna let me get lost? And with a cheap fucking radio too, goddamnit. I’m so fucking screwed.”

The voice spoke in English. No one from HQ primarily spoke in English. Finally, the source of the light passed by Okabe and Maho’s hiding spot allowing him to see the emblem of the New Government on the person’s shoulder and an assault rifle in their hands.

What’s the New Government doing down here?!

They were clad in normal militia gear, albeit dirtied as they trudged down the path that Okabe and Maho came from. The future of Valkyrie’s operations were at stake. Taking a deep breath, Okabe got out of his hiding spot and squared himself up behind the soldier, activating the tactical flashlight he put on below the gun’s barrel.

“ No move !” he shouted in accented English. “ Drop gun and put you hands up! ”

Okabe did his best to learn English over the course of the years. While he could understand just about most of it, there were still some tough spots he found when speaking the language itself. He hoped that with Maho joining headquarters, he could improve his fluency. However, what he said seemed to register with the soldier as they froze, though without dropping their weapon. His head twitched ever-so-slightly prompting Okabe to raise his pistol and shout again.

“ I say no move! ” the soldier froze once more and they faced ahead, though their rifle still remained in their hands. “ Do you understand Japanese? ”

“Y-Yes!” the response came back in English.

“So you’re saying that you can understand the words that are coming out of my mouth at this moment, is that correct?” Okabe decided to quiz him immediately.

“I understand the words coming out of your mouth, yes!” the soldier translated Okabe’s words and spoke them back to him in English.

“Why are you down here?” Okabe decided to get to the important part of the conversation. However, this question got no response. “Answer me or I’ll shoot!”

“W-We received word of squatters in the Sumida City tunnels. I was sent in with a squad, but somewhere along the way we got separated and I lost all contact with my team.”

He came from the other side of Akihabara?

Okabe mentally breathed a sigh of relief, comforted by the knowledge that the entrance they used at Ikebukuro wasn’t being investigated.

“L-Listen, if you can point me in the right direction, I won’t even mention you’re down here,” trying to be familiar with him, the soldier tried to turn to face Okabe again.

“You try turning around one more time and I will put a bullet through the side of your skull, do you understand?!”

Again, the soldier’s head snapped back into place. In any other world, Okabe would have willfully answered the questions of any person who was asking for directions. However, here, now, so close to the entrance of his hideout, he couldn’t run the risk. He grit his teeth, trying to find a way out of the situation. If he sent him down the path they took from Ikebukuro, the practicality of that tunnel would be revealed to the New Government and make entering Akihabara much harder. As for sending him back east towards Sumida, the task proved impossible since Valkyrie never used the eastern side of the tunnels so they weren’t mapped out.

Think, Rintaro, think! There has to be a way. This kid doesn’t even sound like he’s in his 20s! There’s still so much life for him to live.

“Y-You do know the way… right?!” the soldier started to sound frantic. “Please, I’ve been in here for hours. I can’t handle being lost for another minute!”

“How can I know that I can trust you? From where I’m standing, it might just be better for me to let you stay lost.”

Okabe tried to test the soldier again. He was willing to accept any response he gave so long as it made sense. He was just a kid, there was no way that he would be able to manipulate the situation in any way. However, what Okabe failed to realize was the quickness with which a younger person would crack under pressure.

“God fucking damn it! I can’t do this anymore!” 

“Don’t–!”

The soldier’s body began to swing around as Okabe heard the safety of his assault rifle go off. It was a split-second decision, one that Okabe wished he would never have to make. He felt his finger squeeze the trigger; he saw the bright light that flashed from the barrel of the pistol as the slider recoiled; he heard the painfully loud crack that reverberated along the walls. All it took was one shot in that singular moment of time, that singular moment of time taking him back to July of 2010. He watched the person in front of him immediately crumple as the bullet found its mark in the front of his target’s skull. He heard the death rattle as air escaped from the wound that was created. It was all done in an instant, and in that instant Okabe felt his entire stomach turn upside down.

Maho immediately rushed to Okabe’s side as he dropped to his hands and knees, feeling the urge to vomit immediately overtake him. “Okabe-san! You did the right thing! He was going to kill you - kill us! You gave him chances to avoid this whole thing, you’re not a murderer!”

Yet those pleas and validations reached deaf ears.

In the past of the Beta Worldline, on the night that Maho Hiyajo arrived in Japan to assist with creating the time machine, Rintaro Okabe was forced to reckon with the one thing he wished to avoid repeating since he first arrived to the worldline. He was forced, yet again, to feel the crushing weight he felt so many years ago. He was forced to relive taking the life of another human being.

Date: November 16, 2036 10:21:59AM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

Okabe walked down the hall dumbstruck. It had only been two days - two days since he first arrived on Steins Gate — two days of showing Kurisu what he was truly all about. She wanted to wait a week to do any work with Amadeus following the betrayal of her trust that his past self put her through — that’s what she claimed.

So why are we at the Neuroscience Institute on a Sunday?

Granted, in those two days, Okabe learned a lot about Steins Gate. He learned exactly how Kurisu and himself started dating and when they got married. He learned that he and Kurisu now resided in America, which made why he couldn’t recognize the cityscape make sense. He learned of the occupations of all the lab members: Daru was a freelance network engineer who did odd jobs for many different big companies to enhance their security - Viktor Chondria being one of the institutions that regularly contracted him; Mayuri was an elementary school teacher in Ikebukuro; Moeka became the editor-in-chief for Arc-Rewrite; Luka was about ready to retire after nearly 20 years of work as a cosplay influencer; Faris became the owner of the largest (and first ever) maid cafe franchise in the world; Suzuha was a university student at Tokyo Denki University; and both Kurisu and Maho took on and split Professor Leskinen’s old role as Co-Directors of the the Neuroscience Institute. Okabe himself was both the Project Lead for projects involving Amadeus as well as a professor of the entry-level class for Viktor Chondria’s Neuroscience Program. As the couple walked along the campus, they were occasionally stopped by students who recognized him, concerned about the cancellation of his office hours. For those answers, he relied solely on Kurisu.

However, in those two days, Okabe was also a victim to many different triggers ranging from bad dreams to the popping sounds of car engines, to the loud crashing of a plate that Haruki accidentally dropped. Each trigger brought him back to the Beta Worldline, some experiences making him simply dissociate, others completely transporting him to that past he wished so desperately to forget. Kurisu seemed to wordlessly be dealing with it, though she kept her distance at the same time. Ever since they had sex, there was no other romantic interaction to follow. It made Okabe worried, but he couldn’t do anything about it - he didn’t allow himself to do anything about it. He was certain that her mind was a mess ever since it was made clear that his past self betrayed her. However, those thoughts would cease because, as soon as they woke up this morning, she told him to get ready to go to the Neuroscience Institute. 

Not knowing how to dress, he simply followed her lead: she basically wore a more grown-up variation of what she once wore on the Alpha Worldline: a black pantsuit paired with a brown coat that fell just past her shoulders with straps on her biceps, and a white dress-shirt with a red tie beneath it, made complete with black inch-heel slippers. His dress-code took on what he used to wear in the past of the Beta Worldline: black pants with a matching sports coat, and a black dress-shirt beneath it. For shoes he opted for black Oxford dress shoes.

Now, they were deep beneath the campus at Viktor Chondria University, an extension of the Institute building which housed the primary terminal for the world’s most advanced creation: Amadeus. The amount of security checks Okabe had to go through just to get to this room rivaled the security checks that the New Government ran at their checkpoints. However, once they flashed their ID, or scanned a fingerprint or eyeball, they were immediately let through to the next stage. Finally, the couple reached the most secure part of the Institute, Amadeus’ Control Room. Scanning her ID badge at the door’s lock, the RFID sensor chirped in acceptance of Kurisu’s credentials and let her into the room where only four people in the world had total, unmitigated access: Rintaro Okabe, Maho Hiyajo, Kurisu Makise, and Alexis Leskinen.

Okabe followed her in to reveal a rather odd and relatively small square room for a research institute. The floor was linoleum while the walls were opaque and glass-like, covered in writing from dry-erase markers. There were four desks in a row, each with a varying amount of paperwork on them and at the wall to the left of the door was a central terminal hanging from the ceiling with a rolling chair in front of it and a table next to it which had a neural interface headgear eerily reminiscent to the headgear used for the Time-Leap Machine. On the far wall, where the last desk was located, was a refrigerator with a microwave sitting atop it.

He learned that, in order to maintain as much privacy as possible, his past self suggested this kind of central set-up that would dictate how Amadeus operated on the cloud. All the sensitive data remained within the Control Room, but how Amadeus interpreted it was viewable to anyone who used the A.I.. 

“Looks like we’re the first ones here,” Kurisu remarked as she found her seat at the chair in front of the terminal. “Get comfortable, Okarin.”

All Okabe could do was stand a few feet away from the entrance and look at Kurisu. She refrained from speaking to him the entire time besides the morning when she told him that they were going to the Institute and just now when she told him to get comfortable.

“Would you mind telling me why we’re here in the first place, Kurisu?” Okabe was much too unnerved to be anything but direct with his wife.

“You’ll see in a bit,” she plainly responded. “Grab a seat.”

For some reason that response ticked him off. “ Now who’s keeping secrets?”

Okabe crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow at Kurisu. Her initial shocked response rapidly evolved into a fierce glare of her own, one that was much more intense than any other that he was witness to since he first made it to Steins Gate. However, he was far too incensed to be intimidated by the look that she gave. They both remained glaring at each other, neither of them backing down or blinking, both of them waiting for the other to say a word so that they could immediately retort. During their staredown, the door beeped once more, letting yet another entrant into the room. 

Before Okabe even had the chance to turn around, the person made their presence known to him.

“What lovers’ quarrel did I interrupt this time?” It was a voice that Okabe longed to hear since he first left the Beta Worldline. He turned around and looked down.

Standing there, iced coffee in hand, with bags beneath her eyes and matted hair, was the woman whose contributions were absolutely vital to reaching Steins Gate. Maho Hiyajo entered the lab alert, wearing an actual matching pair of green slippers for once, a long white dress with green accentuation, and her lab coat. She eyed him up and down as she entered since he was directly in her way.

“Did someone die or something?” Maho raised her eyebrow at him. “What’s with all the black?”

“I… just decided to wear this today,” Maho’s comment caught Okabe by surprise, putting a pause to his nostalgic feelings and desire to greet her. “Is it wrong that I just wear black without the need for an occasion?”

“Very,” Maho responded matter-of-factly before pushing past the stunned Okabe. “Kurisu, I hope this isn’t you trying to make up for taking the day off on Friday. I really was going to let you enjoy the weekend.”

Kurisu got up from the seat she took, a smile immediately replacing the glare she donned earlier, and extended her arms to embrace her approaching friend. “Don’t worry Senpai , this was an actual emergency.”

They embraced for a short while before Maho disconnected and found herself standing at the table next to the terminal. She was directly in between Kurisu and Okabe who shot the occasional dagger at each other. Maho, perceptive of this, had her eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.

“Does this emergency have anything to do with whatever this is?” she dryly asked, motioning her arms at the warring couple..

“I wouldn’t know,” Okabe was quick to fire the opening salvo. “I wasn’t even awake for five minutes before I was wordlessly dragged to this basement.”

“Why can’t you just trust me?!” Kurisu fired back, upping the ferocity of the battle. “I shouldn’t have to explain every little thing I do to you!”

“Well I would appreciate an explanation if whatever you’re doing involves me, Kurisu!” Okabe raised his voice to match his wife’s, but caught himself immediately, taking a deep breath before he let himself get carried away. “I’m a fish out of water right now. I need all the help I can get, especially from my wife.”

“Okay, time out!” Maho cut off the couple before any more words were exchanged, placing her coffee on the table. Her head then snapped in Okabe’s direction, her arms crossed and an investigative glare washing over her face. “‘Kurisu’? ‘Fish out of water’? This whole outfit you have going on that you never wore once in your life before to the lab? What’s gotten into you, Okarin-san?”

Okabe grimaced, snapping at Maho without even thinking. “Does everyone just call me some variation of Okarin on this worldline?! Why would I allow this?!”

He immediately froze up. Kurisu whittled down his ability to stay cool with whatever attitude she currently displayed against him. With his defenses lowered, all it took was a simple comment from Maho for him to unintentionally out himself without even being mentally ready for it. He eyed the woman as she analyzed what he said, but all it did was make her furrow her brows even further.

“Worldline? Why are you acting like you’re just finding this out?” Maho pushed.

All Okabe could do was slump his shoulders. There was no point in hiding anything anyways, especially not from one of his closest friends in the Beta Worldline. He walked further into the room and grabbed a rolling chair from one of the cubicles, rolling it over to Maho for her to grab a seat. 

“I suppose as someone I consider one of my closest comrades,” he said, motioning for her to sit. “You deserve an explanation.”

And so, for the second time in two days, Rintaro Okabe broke down everything he knew about Attractor Field Theory and how it applied to him. He watched Maho’s cynicism slowly dissipate as each time she looked over at Kurisu in the middle of his explanation, Kurisu simply nodded silently as an affirmation that he really wasn’t talking out of his ass. He explained what happened in the past few days and a summary of events of the Beta Worldline that were vastly different from Steins Gate - namely that Kurisu Makise was dead, World War III began due to the time machine, and that she and Okabe were two of three leading figures in a resistance group by the name of Valkyrie.

Maho leaned back in her seat trying to process the glut of information she was just fed. Her eyes remained on the ground as she let herself get lost in thought.

“So you’re not the same Okabe Rintaro I’ve come to know for these past two decades?” she asked.

“I’m still Okabe Rintaro,” Okabe made sure to stress this fact. “I just lost my memories of this worldline and have those of a different one.”

Maho’s eyes narrowed at Okabe as if he just called her wrong only to prove her point. However, she dropped the subject in favor of her next question.

“In this other worldline we were much closer friends?”

Okabe was slightly taken aback by the question since it was one he had no real answer to. “I don’t know how you and I got along before I lost my memories. But in the Beta Worldline, my closest friends were you and Daru.” 

At his response, a grin formed ever-so-slightly on Maho’s face. One that only Okabe was capable of catching since she squarely faced him.

“And we were… just… friends?” Maho made sure to go as slow as possible, enunciating every syllable in her statement – her eyes off to the side to catch a glimpse of her prey. Before Okabe even had a chance to respond, the other woman in the room immediately butted in.

“What kind of question is that , Senpai?!”

“Oh?” Maho’s grin grew and her tone became evermore playful, having reeled in her bait. “Is that jealousy I sense in your voice Kurisu? From the way you looked at Okarin-san earlier, I would have imagined you hated his guts.”

Okabe’s tense shoulders immediately loosened up. The question was never meant to be taken seriously, it was just Maho’s way of trying to ease the tension that existed between Kurisu and himself. Tension that Kurisu caused because of her recent distance.

“I-It’s not like that…” Kurisu’s face immediately went red, realizing she was just caught in Maho’s trap. “W…We’re still husband and wife…”

Okabe looked at Kurisu as she spoke, but when Kurisu met his eyes, she immediately averted her own, fidgeting with her tie as she looked down at the ground. “A-Anyways! About the emergency!”

Kurisu cleared her throat before continuing to speak. “You know how Okarin and yourself were working on a project to expand Amadeus’ capabilities to PTSD victims?”

“Yeah,” Maho replied. “We were thinking of fine-tuning the perfect-recall of its memory storage to forget the feeling of stress-hormone release during a traumatic event. We thought that if we could do that, we’d be able to mitigate the ‘flight-or-flight’ mode that someone with PTSD is stuck in and lessen, if not completely eradicate, the potential of being triggered into recalling the event.”

Maho sighed. “The only problem we’ve experienced over the past few weeks, though, is that there’s no viable candidate among the consenting individuals we currently have stored in Amadeus. Our efforts in recruiting PTSD victims to participate in the study has also yielded very little results since we only put out feelers a couple days ago. I was able to finalize the last bit of code for the first phase of testing, but if there’s no one to apply it to, there’s no way to even begin.”

Okabe saw Kurisu’s eye twitch at the “no viable candidate” line. Despite their lack of connection in the past few days, he knew what she was thinking – there was a viable candidate in Rintaro Okabe himself. However, it was safe to assume that if he kept as much of what happened on the Alpha Worldline a secret to Kurisu, he shared even less with others.

“What if I told you that we now have a perfectly viable candidate?” Kurisu said.

“Really?” Maho’s eyes lit up. “Who–... Oh…”

Maho almost immediately connected the dots as she looked right at Okabe. “World War III must have been tough on you, huh?”

“To put it lightly,” Okabe mumbled, though a majority of his issues didn’t come from the war itself, rather its aftermath.

“Well for that, we don’t even need to test the code I’ve been working on,” Maho turned back to Kurisu. “Since our main concern is that he’s lost his memories, we can just put them back, and overwrite these ones, right? Problem solved on two fronts.”

Kurisu’s eyes darkened at Maho’s words. “...We can’t do that…”

“What do you mean we can’t? That’s the one thing we’ve perfected about Amadeus… or did the memories he stored in Amadeus also get replaced?”

Without waiting for a response, Maho raced towards the terminal and turned it on. Since it was the central hub where Amadeus operated from, the boot-up was almost instant. The same A.I. form of Rintaro Okabe appeared on the screen, clad in a lab coat and a collared shirt with a loosened black tie. With the help of the camera on top of the terminal, Amadeus was able to spot Kurisu just inside its field of vision. His eyes widened as he appeared to nearly shoot out of the screen.

“Kuri–!” Before he could get any words out, Kurisu silently reached her hand out towards the terminal keyboard and shut down the A.I. once more. The expression on her face was mostly stoic, but Okabe could spot a near-imperceptible quiver in her lip.

“Kurisu?” Maho was taken aback by Kurisu’s reaction. “What’s going on?”

“...The plan is to merge Okarin’s memories as he is now with who he was before,” she finally spoke after a couple seconds of being stared at by Maho. “We can’t– I don’t want to overwrite everything…”

“What? But Kurisu, Okarin-san as he is now is basically a stranger– no offense Okarin-san,” Maho immediately turned to apologize to Okabe who raised his hand and gently shook his head. He took no offense. In fact, when he first started mulling over whether or not he should observe the shift to Steins Gate, this was one of the reactions he expected which initially pushed him to not do so.

“Please, Senpai …” Kurisu’s hands slightly shrunk into her coat to get a tight grip on the cuffs. “I… I would like Okarin to have the memories he experienced in that worldline…”

Trying to shake off whatever emotion she was feeling, she very rapidly followed her statement. “The only problem is that those memories carry a lot of trauma – trauma that I hope we can free him from.”

Maho silently eyed Kurisu as her junior bowed her head once more, not finding the strength in her to look at anyone else. After a couple seconds of mulling it over herself, she simply sighed. “I hope this is also something we can talk about at some point, Kurisu.”

She faced Okabe once more who, at this point, was just a glorified spectator. “Okarin-san, if you will, please put on the headgear on that table. We’ll scan your memories and upload them to the server as a separate entity of the avatar that currently contains your old memories. The scan and upload will be near-instantaneous, but in order to make a testable A.I. out of those memories, the system will probably need the rest of the day to make one.”

“If that’s all, I’ll take my leave,” she said, beginning to make a move for the door. “I really would like to at least be able to enjoy my Sunday.”

Kurisu remained silent, her eyes still on the ground. However, Okabe raised his own objection. “You’re not going to stay and do the scan?” 

“Kurisu knows how to do it, she’s done this countless times,” Maho shot the objection down like it was nothing as she got closer to Okabe. In a quiet voice she whispered so that only he could hear “Besides, you two have to sort out whatever this is and I don’t want to be in the room for it any longer than I have to be.”

With that said, she went to the door, waited for it to slide open, and made her prompt exit, leaving behind the silence that became even more deafening with her absence. Okabe looked back over at Kurisu who still held the same look that she had ever since she shut off Amadeus. He still didn’t know why she was so distant from him, but at least this conversation was able to confirm that her aim for the day did not spawn out of malice. No doubt fueled by the worry that his triggers caused, she wanted to help him before they turned their attention towards merging his memories.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to help me?” Okabe asked, still maintaining his spot a few steps away from the table with the headgear.

“It’s… it’s not to help you,” Kurisu said, shifting her focus to the side, but still avoiding his gaze. “I just figured… if we were to merge your memories… it’d include the problematic ones you currently have. If we got rid of those beforehand, we wouldn’t have to worry about anything when the time comes…”

“There’s the tsundere I know,” Okabe lightly chuckled before approaching the table and taking the seat next to it that Maho once inhabited. He figured that Kurisu would do most of the work at the terminal – all he had to do was put the headgear on. However, as he reached out to grab it, a small hand stopped him. He looked over once again to see a still-seated Kurisu trying her best to fight back the blood rushing to her face.

Why is she so embarrassed about this all of a sudden? he thought, however he placed his hand back on his lap. With his hands out of the way, Kurisu got up from her seat and grabbed the headgear, gently placing it atop Okabe’s head. Once she confirmed it was secure, she returned to the terminal, tapped a couple keys, and then turned back to face him.

“Upload is done and the A.I. is being made,” she said, taking the headgear off with the same gentleness in which she put it on. “We can go home now.”

She placed the headgear on the table and quickly tried to make her way to the door, but before she could take even two steps, Okabe grabbed her arm. Shocked by the sudden touch, Kurisu quickly snapped her attention towards Okabe, pulling her arm away.

“What’s going on?” he asked earnestly. “The way you’ve been acting lately makes it seem like you hate me or something.”

Kurisu clicked her tongue, her head tilting towards the floor once more.

“It…It’s nothing,” she said, doing everything in her power to avoid his gaze. “I promise I don’t hate you.”

“This vagueness does nothing to quell any of my anxiety, my love,” Okabe was earnest with her, trying to get his head low to look at her face, but she turned away from him as soon as he did so.

“Why would you be anxious?” Kurisu snapped defensively, her fists clenched. “I’m sure you were some ruthless guy in infinitely more stressful situations in that worldline. This should be nothing to you.”

Okabe’s eyes glazed over at Kurisu’s retort. His mind was brought back to 2018 on the Beta Worldline when Maho first returned to Japan. He remembered the anxiety that clawed away at his throat deep within the tunnels below Akihabara as he confronted the young soldier. He remembered the clamminess of his hands that betrayed the stillness with which he gripped his pistol with intent to kill. He remembered the knot that formed in his stomach from the moment that he first heard the soldier’s voice, a knot that was only undone by the urge to vomit after doing what he did. He remembered the fact that things only played out the way they did because he didn’t give the young man any reason to feel at ease. He coerced that young man into the final throes of insanity. He lured him into acting against his own self-interest. He killed him without a moment’s hesitation. If anything, he was a murderer. He looked down at his hands. What right did a murderer like him have to be anxious about anything? What right did he have to even experience love?

“—rin,” he heard Kurisu’s voice pierce the haze of his thoughts. “Okarin, are you okay?”

The fog lifted only slightly. When he looked up at his wife, all he could see was an 18-year-old Kurisu, blood dripping out of her mouth, and the glow of her eyes becoming entirely lost. He looked down at her belly, seeing the red that soaked through her white shirt where he stabbed her. A cold sweat formed on his brow as the stare from her dull violet eyes only served to increase his already-elevated heart rate. The zombified Kurisu reached out to him and, fearing she’d drag him down to Hell, he recoiled, rolling away from her.

Okabe was speechless. He shuddered at the sight before him, his teeth were grit and his heart threatened to leap out of his throat. All he could see was Kurisu; all he could see was the result of his deeds; all he could see was an Angel of Death.

“I… I swear… I didn’t mean to kill you,” he choked out. “I didn’t mean to kill that boy. Please… forgive me. I don’t want to die…”

Kurisu simply stood still, dropping the hand that she reached out with. He tried his best to get his breathing under control, using the reprieve he was granted. He looked around, the black in his periphery slowly fading away and giving way to the dull glow of Amadeus’ Control Room. His head then snapped back to Kurisu, bloodless, older, and full of life. She covered her mouth with both hands and her eyebrows trembled as tears threatened to stain her cheeks.

“You… you’ve killed someone else…?” Kurisu’s voice came out muffled as her hands still covered her mouth.

A chill ran down Okabe’s spine, threatening to transport him back to that evening in the Beta Worldline. All he could do was try to keep his breathing steady, his eyes wide to maintain the sight he had before him. He didn’t want to risk blinking and seeing a lifeless Kurisu again. 

A small sob escaped from Kurisu. “I… I’m so sorry.”

It was a reaction that Okabe didn’t expect, shocking him into forgetting the fact that he was fighting a flashback. She began to take a couple steps towards the unmoving Okabe, however, before she could fully close the distance, the door chirped once more.

“I forgot my coff–!” Maho rushed through as soon as the door opened before stopping abruptly. The sight before her confounded her, a scared, sweaty Okabe, and a Kurisu who was actively crying. “...What happened here?”

Kurisu froze in her tracks. Her head snapped towards Maho, then slowly turned her attention back towards Okabe. Her face was stuck in a toothless grimace as she looked around. Her eyes connected once more with Okabe’s terrified gaze before she bowed her head. She then turned away from him completely and began walking towards Maho who was still by the door’s threshold.

“Please take him home whenever you’re both ready, Senpai ,” Kurisu sniffled as she slowly made her way past Maho. “I’ll… I’ll leave him in your care for now…”

Before Maho could open her mouth to respond, Kurisu’s pace suddenly picked up and she rushed out the door. 

“Kurisu?!” Maho followed her toward the door, but stopped there, choosing to poke her head down the hall that Kurisu went down. She watched for a couple moments before she sighed and re-entered the room to address an equally stunned Okabe.

“What the hell happened?” She crossed her arms, anger evident across her face.

Okabe sincerely didn’t know how close he was to Maho on this worldline. He didn’t know how much of himself he shared with her, if they even spoke outside of being with Kurisu or at work. However, this was the very same woman who helped him escape the Beta Worldline, the one who shared his conviction in saving Kurisu and, conversely, saving the world. This was someone he could consider his closest confidant back then. From where he was seated, he grabbed the rolling chair from the terminal and rolled it towards her. Maho hesitantly accepted the seat, rolling closer to him by the side-table that contained the headgear and her forgotten coffee. Her feet dangled in the air as she got herself comfortable in it.

“She… triggered a flashback,” Okabe admitted, feeling shame for allowing the woman he loved to trigger him. “One that reminded me of the sins I committed in my efforts to reach this worldline.”

Maho listened silently to Okabe, sipping on her coffee without taking her eyes off of him. And, for this moment in time, Okabe allowed himself to fully slip into the nostalgia for the friendship he had with her on the Beta Worldline – this situation mirroring the many times where he would speak of his anxieties to one of the very few people who’d listen to him. Once again, Okabe laid the darkness that burdened his heart bare to the woman who, in his mind, was one of his most precious friends; a burden that this woman, as she was now, seemed willing to help him carry like she did many times before in a forgotten worldline.

Chapter Text

Date: August 3, 2011 7:02:01PM JST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

Kurisu Makise’s head was absolutely pounding.  It had been about eight hours since she first arrived in Japan. She was escorted to the Future Gadget Lab first by Luka Urushibara and Mayuri Shiina, allowing her to make her greetings to everyone, even that guy, before leaving very briefly to check in to her hotel. Now, she was back in the Future Gadget Lab, lying down on the couch thanks to that guy calling a “Round Table Meeting” which basically equated to a barbecue on the roof. Yakisoba was cooked, drinks were shared, and stories were told. At some point, the building manager offered her a new drink when she finished her soda, a brightly colored can with a logo she’d never seen before. It was a little bitter for her taste, but she pushed through, not wanting to seem ungrateful for the building manager’s kindness. However, as she got deeper and deeper into her drink, the warmth she felt became overbearing and her racing mind could only focus on one thing. That guy.

She brazenly approached him, accusing him of all manner of things (which were true). He and the lab visited America very briefly in early October to watch Faris’ Rai-Net Tournament – only a couple weeks after she was able to find him on the streets of Akihabara. Her mind was a confused mess when she saw him – still was – and in that confusion, he kissed her, only to play it off as some “other worldline” BS and then proceeded to act like nothing even happened between the two! The entire time, in her head, she could not allow herself to believe that time travel was real, so why did her mind feel so muddled? It was like that before she even drank a drop of alcohol, too. In the middle of her confrontation with him, he put his hand over her mouth and dragged her back into the stairwell where she shamelessly threw herself onto him and indulged in the prickliness of his face. After that, they lost their balance and fell the rest of the way to the Future Gadget Lab. That was why she was lying on the sofa, her arms covering her eyes to avoid any stray light that might enter the already-dark lab.

She heard bare footsteps approaching her, prompting her to create an opening in her arms to peek at the source.

“Here, Assistant,” it was that guy, Rintaro Okabe, offering her a cold, damp towel. “Cool your head a bit.”

She shakily raised her hand to accept the offering. “Thanks…”

Free of the towel, he turned away from her. “Good grief.”

“What do you mean, ‘good grief’?” Kurisu’s eyes followed Okabe as he took a few steps away from the couch. 

“Trying to pick a fight again?” Okabe didn’t face her as he spoke.

He was referring to the confrontation on the roof. As she recalled, she did use some colorful language as she tried to aggressively deny the existence of time travel and time machines despite the conflicting feelings that seemed to tear apart her psyche. Her eyes drifted downwards as she tried to stave off the embarrassment that came with that recollection.

“I wish I could tell you,” she sighed, laying her head back down on the couch and applying the towel to her head. “I’m a scientist. I don’t want to accept the idea of past life encounters, or destiny, or worldlines… and time machines.”

“I know that,” Okabe’s voice was light, nothing like the haughty tone with which he usually regarded her.

“But… even though I try to deny them in theory, something keeps bothering me… My head just gets all messed up…”

As she spoke, she heard Okabe make a move to sit on the floor, however before he even got down, a light thud hit the ground. Her eyes shot open, looking at the source of the thud – a box had fallen out of his lab coat pocket.

“Uh, this is–” Before she even let him finish, she sat up and leaned down to pick up the box.

She pulled out the box’s contents, recognizing instantly what they were. “A spoon… and a fork…”

“You wanted them, so…” Okabe sheepishly explained much to her surprise.

Firstly, she never told him. Secondly, why was he being sheepish? And thirdly, why did she find it cute?!

She looked at the spoon and fork again, “I did want them… but I never told you that…”

Kurisu saw Okabe’s eyes widen very briefly before he just let his gaze land on the floor, still looking like someone she absolutely wanted to dote on. The whole experience, however, only served to muddle her mind even more than before. The intensity of her headache increased as she looked at the utensil set.

“It feels like someone’s been peeping into my thoughts,” she giggled a little bit, before putting them down on the table. “Sorry. I’m going to rest a bit.”

Without waiting for a response, she laid herself back down on the couch. Within moments of her head heading the couch pillow, she found herself drifting off to sleep. She heard the approaching footsteps of another person and a muffled conversation between a higher-pitched and lower-pitched voice that she didn’t have the mental strength to try to focus on. She let sleep claim her, finding comfort in the warmth of the room.

“—yuri!” Kurisu began to stir to the sound of a scarily frantic voice. 

“What?” a higher-pitched voice responded in worry. 

Without much space within responses, the frantic voice, the one that she recognized belonged to Okabe, spoke “Come this way!”

At the order, Kurisu heard a plate clang in the lab’s steel sink. “Okarin?! What’s wrong?!”

The higher-pitched voice was Mayuri. There was a rush of footsteps headed in Kurisu’s direction, prompting her to finally open her eyes. “Wake up, Kurisu!”

Her eyes immediately widened as Okabe ordered her to wake up mid-stir. Having placed Mayuri by the couch next to the bathroom curtain, he rushed back towards the sink. Kurisu, still groggy, but equally concerned, got up to approach Okabe from behind, rubbing her eyes as she did so. “What’s up with you?”

Without responding, Okabe toppled a stack of plates on the sink, breaking a good number of them in search for something within the basin itself. “Get back. Hurry!” Okabe pulled out a steak knife and unsheathed it, holding onto it as if he were about to attack someone.

Kurisu immediately backed into Mayuri, holding onto her in fear as flashes of her father made their way to the forefront of her mind. Hashida, having also made his way down from the roof, was on the other side of the room by the computer, too stunned to even move.

“Okabe?! What…?” Kurisu tried questioning him, but she was interrupted.

“Be quiet…” he pleadingly whispered.

Kurisu heard movement coming from the staircase that led up to the lab, making her tighten her grip on Mayuri’s hands. Okabe, also hearing the noise, raised the knife, ready to ambush whoever it was coming up.

“Hey, you guys forgot this on the roof—” Kurisu recognized the voice of Mr. Tennouji as he turned the corner to enter the lab. However, he was cut off by Okabe raising the knife to his throat.

“Don’t move!” Okabe ordered.

“W-What the hell?! Okabe, what are you—” A cold sweat formed on Mr. Tennouji as he froze, not wanting to get slashed by the knife.

“Kurisu! The Time-Leap Machine! Quick!”

Kurisu gasped in surprise. The Time-Leap Machine? They never spoke of such a thing, so what was he demanding of her?

“We don’t have time, hurry up!”

“Okabe, calm down!” Kurisu finally found the ability to speak up. “There’s no such thing here!”

“What are you saying?! It’s just over there—” Okabe’s head shot toward the back of the lab, but he was cut off by his own gasp. Whatever he was looking for wasn’t there as his eyes frantically scanned the backroom that contained the other computer. After a few moments, he gave up the search.

“This… is the Steins Gate Worldline… isn’t it?” he finally asked, still holding the knife to Mr. Tennouji’s throat.

Mr. Tennouji was at a total loss for words, not knowing what anything Okabe said meant.

“Steins…?” Kurisu heard Moeka Kiryuu from behind the building manager, her presence only making itself known now that she spoke.

“Yes,” Kurisu answered for him, still shakily holding onto Mayuri. “We’re on the worldline you told me you fought to get to.”

Okabe’s body slumped as Kurisu answered his question. “Is that right? I’m sorry…” 

Slowly, he took the knife off of the building manager’s throat, placed it in the sink, and shakily walked out of the lab, refusing to acknowledge anything that happened.

“W-What the hell was that?” Mr. Tennouji was still frazzled as he dropped off the forgotten item – the mini grill they used for the barbecue.

All Kurisu could do was remain stunned, her mind racing at a million miles a minute as she tried to process what just occurred. 

After a few minutes, due to the atmosphere created by Okabe’s outburst, just about everyone left. It wasn’t until Hashida decided to go home that Kurisu realized that she was still holding on to Mayuri. Once the realization hit, she quickly released her grip on Mayuri’s hands.

“I-I’m sorry, Mayuri,” she said, rubbing her hands which were soaked with her own sweat on her shorts. “That… was just a bit too scary for my liking.”

“No, it’s okay Chris-chan,” Mayuri simply flashed the same comforting smile that she always donned. “Mayushii’s glad she had someone to hold on to during that.”

Kurisu eyed the entryway of the lab, waiting to hear for any approaching footsteps now that it had been minutes since Okabe ambled out the door. However, the only sound she heard was the distant buzzing of cicadas through the lab’s open window. Her gaze drifted over to Mayuri, whose smile dropped as she also began to watch the entryway in worry.

“Hey, Chris-chan,” she said, keeping her eyes on the door. “Have you ever had any weird dreams lately?”

Kurisu was so shocked by the question that her very first response was a “Huh?”

She then looked back at the entryway, her eyes softening as she began to recall what she knew.

“It’s… it’s tough to say,” she answered. “Back when I first met Okabe, there were a lot of memories I had that felt like a mix of what I actually experienced versus whatever I experienced in a dream. He said that it was because those dream-like memories belonged to ‘another worldline’, but I’ve honestly forgotten a lot of them now.”

She tried to recall the memories in question, but the best she could do was remember the feelings she felt in those dreams. In many she was sad, anxious, or frustrated. In others she was ecstatic, studious, or even infatuated… the source of her infatuation likely being Okabe…

Kurisu looked back over at Mayuri who was also in silent thought. A light breeze came in from the window, making her blue dress billow softly. With the way that she looked, Kurisu could have believed that this girl was just an ethereal incarnation of kindness. Everything about her looked so gentle — in fact, Kurisu has never seen Mayuri look in any way angry even once . It was Mayuri that she had to thank for the idea of the gift that Kurisu got Okabe — a gift she left at the hotel because she didn’t know if it’d be weird to get that guy a gift. However, now that she had the utensil set, a small amount of guilt creeped into her heart for not already having her own gift for him on hand.

“You know,” Mayuri started. “Mayushii kind of feels the same way. But I always remember Okarin’s face. He looked so sad in every dream that I had and it felt like Mayushii was the reason. I was always so scared and Okarin did his best to take away the scary things, but he always failed…” 

Kurisu allowed her mind to venture back to the moment that the whole mood switched. The first words she heard when she began to stir from her sleep was Okabe calling for Mayuri and quickly shuffling her away from the entryway. He didn’t move a single step besides when he began to threaten Mr. Tennouji, but the entire time he placed himself between the entryway and Mayuri. On top of that, he demanded that Kurisu go and fire up the “Time-Leap Machine” — whatever that was. That level of devoted protection can’t have been born in this worldline and Mayuri’s dreams were further proof of that notion.

“Have you spoken to Okabe about your dreams?” Kurisu asked.

“Mayushii hasn’t had the chance to,” Mayuri responded, looking at Kurisu once more. “A part of me feels like it’ll just make Okarin sad if I tell him how I feel.”

Kurisu allowed a gentle smile to form. “Why don’t you go talk to him now, then? It’s very likely he feels the same way in some aspects.”

There were two reasons why Kurisu suggested Mayuri go talk to Okabe rather than herself. One, the source of Okabe’s outburst must have stemmed from whatever memories he had of Mayuri in that other worldline, so it would only make sense that the perceived source of that pain try and comfort him. Two, the scary look on his face and the way he brandished the knife still made her shiver. She needed more time to herself to recover from whatever that was.

“Do you know where he could have gone?” Kurisu followed up, realizing that Okabe gave no hint as to where he could have gone.

Mayuri nodded her head and flashed a smile that could rival the brightness of the sun to Kurisu. “Mayushii will go talk to him. Thank you Chris-chan!”

She took a couple playful steps towards the entryway, slipped on her boots, and waved goodbye to Kurisu before skipping down the stairs. Now, as it stood, Kurisu was all alone. She did want to talk to Okabe, but she wanted to use this time to try and recover from her own tumultuous emotions. Her eyes scanned the room, looking for a distraction, before eventually landing on the PC that Hashida was on before he left. She slowly made her way over, sat herself down and booted it up. The password for the computer was on a sticky note just underneath the monitor: “ futuregadgetlab ”.

Talk about password security , Kurisu thought.

Having typed in the password and seeing that it was accepted by the computer, Kurisu went to the one site she was itching to visit since she first left America. All she had to do was type @ and her site of choice autofilled into the search bar.

Might as well argue with some trolls to get this energy out.

Date: August 3, 2011 9:34:15PM JST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

At some point in the night, Kurisu ventured her way from the science board to the J-Drama board. If there was only one thing about @channel that she absolutely loved, it was just the sheer glut of things she could talk about without needing to click off the site. There was a new thread for the Season 2 finale of a show she’d actually been particularly enjoying — now more than usual — so she clicked on it.

224 Name: Anonymous 2011/08/03 (Wed) 21:32:04 ID: 7LkaME5/0

It’s disgusting how the showrunners are just pandering to the fujoshi fans now. There’s been no hint of Kazuma and Hirotaka ever having romantic feelings for each other, but now suddenly they kiss? Give me a break  (눈_눈)

Kurisu had never felt such righteous anger at a comment before. It was very clear that Lab Love Kiss ( Rabu Rabu Chu ) was heading to that peak moment ever since they established Kazuma Kurou and Hirotaka Yamada as the main characters of the drama.

236 Name: Kurigohan and Kamehameha 2011/08/03 (Wed) 21:34:57 ID: VoE860l9P

>>224

You sound like the type who just ignores the signs if they lead to things they don’t like. Kazu/Taka has been a thing since EPISODE 1 （▽д▽）. I’m actually glad the showrunners finally confirmed their relationship (灬♥ω♥灬)

237 Name: Anonymous 2011/08/03 (Wed) 21:34:58 ID: tR1aLO3c0

i hope they cancel the show. guys kissing is so gross <(´ཀ`」<)

238 Name: Anonymous 2011/08/03 (Wed) 21:35:02 ID: 7LkaME5/0

>>236

LOL. Who invited the fujoshi???

239 Name: Anonymous 2011/08/03 (Wed) 21:35:06 ID: 4IWu+r1p0

>>236

GTFO fujoshi! just because the show did something u like doesnt mean it makes sense  

໒( . ͡° ͟ʖ ͡° . )७┌∩┐

240 Name: Anonymous 2011/08/03 (Wed) 21:35:07 ID: Am1LKa9p0

THEY HAD SOMETHING SO GOOD GOING BETWEEN KAZUMA AND YUKI (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻ why tf would he go gay for Hirotaka all of a sudden??? Hirotaka’s just some grunt researcher while Yuki’s a project lead like him! the show runners should go explode

241 Name: Anonymous 2011/08/03 (Wed) 21:35:16 ID: g4LE2sol0

is it weird that i wanna see them try to do a gay sex scene? i wonder what the actors’ wives would have to say about it ( ͡° ͜V ͡°)

242 Name: Kurigohan and Kamehameha 2011/08/03 (Wed) 21:35:16 ID: VoE860l9P

>>238

>>239

LMAO. Just because I have media literacy doesn’t mean I’m a fujoshi you plebs. The story is through Hirotaka’s POV, so of course he’d interpret Kazu/Yuki as more romantic than it was. I’d tell you to go back to your coloring books, but I’m scared you might start eating your crayons lololol.

243 Name: Anonymous 2011/08/03 (Wed) 21:35:19 ID: 7LkaME5/0

>>241

Die.

244 Name: Anonymous 2011/08/03 (Wed) 21:35:20 ID: 4IWu+r1p0

>>241

alt+f4 from life pls

245 Name: Kurigohan and Kamehameha 2011/08/03 (Wed) 21:35:23 ID: VoE860l9P

>>241

You’ve lost speaking rights ( ＾▽＾)っ✂╰⋃╯

Don’t ever post on this thread again pls thx. 

Kurisu Makise was in full flame-war mode. Unlike the objective analysis she could present on the science board if she ever got into arguments, TV shows were much more up to subjective interpretations, which would allow idiots to believe they were right no matter what. At some point, the thread devolved into a general complaint about the fact that they confirmed the BL part of the show, but she was going to do whatever it took to make them see reason. She typed away vigorously given she seemed to be the only normal person in the thread who approved of the show’s decision to confirm the main ship.

In the middle of her typing, she heard what sounded like her internal voice speak, “Nullpo.”

“Gah,” she casually responded to complete the meme as she typed away. Only a total noob to @channel would be unable to respond to a (@channel-only) phenomenon born out of the programming board.

Kurisu suddenly froze. That voice wasn’t her internal voice finding an external release. Getting her wits about her as quickly as she froze, she slid the mouse across the screen to close the window she was using and spun around. However, she wasn’t fast enough. There, looking over her shoulder with the most smug grin on his face was none other than Rintaro Okabe.

“I-It’s not what it looked like!” Kurisu’s face immediately went red as she now had to vigorously defend herself from this guy.

“Oh really, Assistant?” Okabe let out an evil-sounding giggle. “You mean to tell me that you weren’t just vehemently defending the gays in the rotten cesspool that is @channel like the avid fujoshi you are?”

Kurisu had to play dumb. “@...@channel? …Fujoshi…? I don’t even know what you’re talking about…”

Okay maybe not that dumb.

“Worry not, Christina,” he began pacing back and forth. “I’ve always known you were a dirty @channeler at heart, it’s why you were also dubbed @channeler Chris.”

“This is the first time I’ve ever heard of that ridiculous name!” Kurisu fired back. “And there’s no way you could have known! I only browse that site — whatever it is — in my private time!”

“You reek of @channel corruption, Assistant of mine,” Okabe smugly retorted as he pointed an accusatory finger at Kurisu. “I’d have to be an absolute fool to not catch a whiff of it upon meeting you!”

“Huh?!” Kurisu’s blush deepened as she brought her nose down to her armpits to sniff. All the while, she felt a tugging sensation at the back of her mind. “I…I don’t smell! I still have the perfume I put on earlier…”

“That’s not what I mean, Christina,” Okabe tilted his head down to peer deep into Kurisu’s eyes. The tugging sensation was becoming stronger. “I mean the stench of your soul.”

Suddenly, as if that tug turned into one big yank, it felt like her head had become so much clearer through the pain. Her eyes widened as she realized just what was going on.

“...Because I reference memes in normal conversation… right?”

“Your references— huh?”

Okabe paused mid-sentence, realizing that Kurisu did not pick the dialogue choice he planned out in his mind. That reaction in itself was basically a confirmation for the genius scientist.

“Why…” Kurisu grabbed her head with one hand as the ache went on. “Did we have this conversation before? In another worldline?”

Okabe’s eyes darkened at her words. It seemed like she was right on the mark — there was no Hououin Kyouma-esque retort to be had. He turned away from her and made his way to the couch, allowing her to actually stand up without being so close to him.

“I’m assuming I was right,” Kurisu sighed as Okabe plopped down on his seat. “It’s… eerie. Feeling like parts about myself that I’ve never revealed are just common knowledge for you… and having to fight the feeling of having already done these types of things with you.”

She crossed her arms as she watched Okabe who squeezed his temples with his hand, covering his eyes. “You’re right. We’ve had this conversation in the Alpha Worldline.”

“And you were planning on just letting it play out as usual instead of telling me?” Kurisu’s eyes narrowed at Okabe.

“Who was it that said she didn’t believe in other worldlines and time travel?” Okabe answered her question with a question of his own. “I figured you wouldn’t have wanted me to talk about it — which… no complaints from my end — it makes it easier to just ignore everything…”

Thanks to the clarity she felt in her mind, Kurisu was quick to make connections based on the things that Okabe left unsaid.

“I take it you’re talking about the dreams that Mayuri mentioned?”

Okabe’s head shot up to look at Kurisu very briefly, making her flinch, but he immediately hung it once more. “She told you about those dreams too, huh?”

“Well, I was the one who pushed her to go talk to you about them,” Kurisu grumbled. “I certainly wasn’t going to.”

“Oh? And why is that?” Kurisu recognized that Okabe was trying to change the subject so she didn’t interrupt him. “Were you anxious that the sheer might of my resonance would make you uncover the hidden feelings you have—”

“You scared me, Okabe,” she decided she heard enough of his ridiculous rambling. “You almost killed Tennouji-san and you were yelling all these nonsensical things!”

Again, her mind was brought back to that July day. The murderous intent that emanated from her father the moment he laid his hands on her was far too eerily reminiscent to the scene that played out with Okabe today. Again, Okabe slumped his shoulders.

“You’re right, it was all nonsensical,” he breathed out. “I’m sorry for scaring you — just know my intent was never to harm you or anyone for that matter.”

Okabe was so distant. Even with this direct confrontation, he didn’t seem to want to open up about what was going on in his head. She wanted to help him, but he wasn’t allowing himself to be vulnerable with her for whatever reason.

“Just forget it all,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”

“It’s kind of hard to forget that kind of scene,” she frowned at him. “What happened on those worldlines to make you react that way?”

“Kurisu please,” Okabe looked up at Kurisu, his eyes sparkling as he pleaded with her. “I just… I really would rather not talk about it.”

He referred to me by my name! Oh my god, oh my god I need to preserve this memory as much as possible. I want to hug him so bad.

“...Okay,” she relented. “Just promise you won’t try to kill anyone anymore.”

A gentle smile formed on Okabe’s lips. “I know you desperately want answers, so I’ll give you some . I’d like to put your mind at ease regarding the déjà vu you’re experiencing — I can imagine it’s quite an uncanny thing to go through especially when you don’t know anything.”

Kurisu’s eyes lit up at Okabe’s response. She got back on the chair and scooted it over to Okabe, ready to learn about the one thing that had been bothering her ever since she first met him. She hoped that one day he would open up about what happened to him so that she could help him , but for the time being, she relished in the feeling of being unironically helped by that guy.

Date: November 17, 2036 5:59:23AM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

“Papa, wake up.”

Okabe felt like he was being shaken from the first dreamless sleep he’d had in the longest time.

“Hmm?” Okabe sat up quickly, trying his best to blink out whatever tiredness remained. When his eyes were finally able to focus in the dark, he was able to make out the figure of Reina Okabe, all by herself and fully dressed in her school uniform.

“Reina?” Okabe’s voice came out a lot deeper than intended — he truly slept like a rock. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “Was I making noise in my sleep again?”

Ever since Kurisu rushed out of the lab, neither Okabe or her were on speaking terms. When Maho dropped him back off at home in the late afternoon, she was already in the master bedroom with the door closed, and never came out for the rest of the day. For that evening, Okabe was responsible for feeding the twins, so he tried to re-gather his very amateurish cooking skills in an effort to make a simple fried rice. It seemed like a relative success given that they actually finished their bowls without complaint. On top of that, they didn’t seem to let the situation that erupted between himself and their mother get in the way of the time they spent together. They all spoke very freely, Okabe opening up about any follow-up questions the twins had regarding his story, or him asking them how they were doing at school and in their social lives. It was a bonding moment he cherished, but one that was tainted by the absence of the love of his life.

Reina’s face was filled with determination. “You didn’t. I want you to take me to school. I know you probably forgot how to drive so I want to walk with you.”

Okabe, too stunned to speak, simply blinked at Reina, trying to ascertain if he was still dreaming. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to see that the hour was barely rolling over to 6AM. As far as he knew, the kids weren’t supposed to be in school for another two hours.

“...How far is the school if you’re waking me up this early? And where’s Haruki?” Okabe was apprehensive. As much as he would enjoy extra bonding time with his kids, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was an ulterior motive to this request.

“It’s a 25-minute walk,” Reina answered. “Haru and I usually walk back home if you and Mama are too busy to pick us up, so it’s doable.”

Reina then moved to snatch Okabe’s blanket. Because of everything going on, he made himself at home on the couch, a decision he only came to regret now because of the soreness that began to seep into just about every bone in his body. The blanket flew off — Okabe was glad he had the wherewithal to ask Haruki to grab his pajama-bottoms from the bedroom that Kurisu inhabited, otherwise he would have exposed his daughter to his bare thighs. 

“And you’re waking me up now for it? Can’t it just wait until it’s closer to that time?” Okabe allowed the blanket to get snatched, comforted in the notion that he didn’t have to hide his body.

“Is it so wrong that I want to spend time outdoors with my loving and doting Papa before going to school?” Reina hit him with a line that he swore he would normally use. She was his daughter alright. “And it’ll just be me. Haru wanted to sleep in so I’m pretty sure Mama’s gonna take him at the usual time.”

Okabe’s eyes narrowed at Reina. The way she overemphasized parts of her last sentence seemed like she had been practicing to say it to the point that it came out more like an act than a genuine answer. 

Reina flinched at the suddenness of Okabe’s reaction, pulling her arm up to her face to cover her mouth. Her voice dropped an octave as she spoke. “Don’t tell me — you can see through my integrity filter?! I’ve honed that technique for ages and not a single soul should be able to overcome it!”

It was the same haughtiness with which he spoke as Hououin Kyouma. Out of principle alone, the only correct reaction to his daughter’s words was to match her energy.

“I may have taught you just about everything you know, young apprentice, but I did not teach you everything I know. Due to a binding vow made with Omoikane himself, Hououin Kyouma is impervious to all secret techniques that distort the truth of the world!”

“It can’t be!” Reina exaggeratedly gasped. “I’ll never be able to recover from this pitfall!”

Reina prostrated herself before Okabe. “Please forgive me, Boss! I thought it a harmless act that you would not be able to see through.”

“You are most fortunate that Hououin Kyouma is a forgiving leader, Amaterasu Kiyoko. Raise your head. It is unbecoming of mad scientists to bow before others.”

“Yes, sir!”

Almost immediately, Reina popped back up, a smile on her face. It was a beautiful one, one that made Okabe’s heart melt just from how innocent it was. The sight of her smile made Okabe form one of his own before bursting into a light chuckle that threatened to become a full-blown cackle.

“Spill it, child of mine,” Okabe said, reining himself in. “What’s your play here?”

Reina’s smile dropped at the question. Her eyes then glanced over to the side, no longer being able to meet his gaze. “...Can it wait until we’re out of the apartment at least?”

“Fine,” he said after a couple moments of thought and then sniffed himself. “I do need a shower before we go, though.”

Again, due to the fact that Okabe did not feel at all comforted by the notion of interrupting whatever Kurisu was going through, he allowed himself to remain exiled from the bedroom, which also meant his bathroom. He decided that the only people allowed to freely enter and exit the room were his children — after all, it seemed like Kurisu only really had a problem with him. 

“You can use mine,” Reina seemed to have already expected her father’s need to bathe. Her eyes suddenly lit up. “And I can dress you up too!”

He did need someone to enter the bedroom to get his clothes. Though, he didn’t feel like he could share in Reina’s excitement. Ever since 2010, his clothing style was always rooted in dark-neutral colors, but with the way Reina absolutely glowed in her non-school outdoor clothes, he was sure she was going to ignore his preferred color palette. When Kurisu and himself went to Viktor Chondria, they dropped the twins off at the library on campus — Haruki seemed to share his clothing style, opting for dark, moody colors to match the “darkness in his heart”, but Reina was a total tonal opposite to her brother. Bright pinks and whites always seemed to find their way into her style, whether it be the ribbons she put in her hair, or the actual clothes she wore.

“Just… try to keep in mind what Papa usually wears, please,” Okabe sighed. “My life is in your hands.”

“Oh please,” Reina waved her father off. “You definitely need all the help you can get after that outfit you wore yesterday.”

“Hey! That was how I usually dressed back when I was 18!” Okabe felt slightly offended by his daughter’s remark, but then realized that offense extended to just about everyone who saw his outfit. “Is it really that off-putting for everyone that I like to wear black?”

Reina giggled. “You’re not young and edgy anymore, Papa, so you should start dressing your age. I’m sure Auntie Maho had her way with critiquing you too.”

His daughter looked so smug as she looked at him. He could have never hoped to speak to his own parents the way that Reina spoke to him, but for some reason, there was a warmth that was ever-present in his heart. 

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Just don’t get carried away and spend a lot of time in there. I don’t want to bother Mama.”

Reina let out a gleeful squeal before raising her hand up in a salute. “Yes, sir!”

“Just lead the way,” Okabe extended his hand out to Reina, a plan forming in his head. “Papa’s forgotten the layout of your bedrooms.”

Reina reached out to grab his hand and, with a grunt and a heave, Okabe almost immediately yanked her onto the couch alongside him and began cackling. “Rule #1: Never trust the handshake of a mad scientist unless there’s an active deal involved!”

Now that Reina was seated alongside him, Okabe grabbed the blanket that was in her other hand and tossed it over her, covering her entirely. As she struggled, he grabbed the outline of her head and gently shook it. “Hououin Kyouma may be a forgiving man, but don’t think you escaped the need to pay restitution for your attempts to deceive me!”

“Ow! Papa my hair! You’re messing it up!”

“You should have thought of that before trying to lie to me!”

Okabe continued shaking Reina and poking at her sides for a couple more seconds before finally relenting. He got up from his spot on the couch, allowing Reina to get out from underneath the blanket on her own. She paused for a bit, waiting for further action, but once she realized that there was no follow-up, she let the blanket fall off from her head. The drop of the cloth revealed a very frustrated teenager, her lips closed in a pout, and a death stare aimed directly at her father. He did his best to not mess with her hair — over the weekend he saw the pride that she took in the way she styled it, but of course, there was no way to fully avoid ruffling it a bit with the blanket being on her. It was absolutely a saveable project: her braid was still fully intact and no hair had gotten loose, the only thing that could use a re-brush of her bangs which were now weirdly parted.

“Once you get a look in the mirror, you will see how easy you had it, spawn of mine,” he placed his hands on his hips and smirked at her. “A repeat offense will see me actively targeting that pride and joy of yours. You have been warned.”

Reina’s eyes widened as she felt around the top of her head ran her hand down the length of her braid, not feeling anything out of place. She felt for her bangs as well, noticing the fact that they were slightly misshapen, but her reaction was tame. She looked back at her father in amazement.

“H-How did you do that?” Her eyes were sparkling, no longer hidden by the narrowness of a glare.

“It is one of my top-secret techniques,” he let out a little “fufufu” as he spoke. “Perhaps one day I shall impart it upon you when you are deemed worthy enough.”

It was literally just an appropriate use of force.

“Okay!” Reina reached her hand out to her father, her smile finding its way back to her face.

Okabe took his daughter’s hand and, with a grunt and a heave, she tried her best to do to him what he did to her, but he didn’t even budge. She gave a couple good tugs, but because he sniffed out her attempt the moment she stuck out her hand, every tug was done in vain.

“I’ve never tasted defeat this often since I first became your apprentice,” Reina finally stopped, knowing that she lost. “I’m usually much better at this.”

“Just because I’ve lost my memories,” Okabe still held a firm grip on Reina’s hands. “Doesn’t mean that I’ve become naive enough for you to let your guard down.”

With that, Okabe pulled his daughter towards him, making her jump off the couch. Standing next to him, Reina gave off a much different height than when he first met her on the night of the worldline shift. Now that she stood tall and proud compared to slouched in her blanket, she instantly gained a couple centimeters, putting her squarely at, if not over Haruki’s height. Just eyeballing it since he could use his own height as a measuring stick, he could assume that Reina was about 166 centimeters, a good 6 centimeters taller than her mother, and 11 centimeters shorter than him.

He let go of her and beckoned her to lead the way. He was , in fact, telling the truth about not knowing the layout of the bedrooms besides the master bedroom. She led him down the hallway, reaching the very end where the path split to the right which led to the closed door of the prohibited zone, and to the left which Okabe could only assume was Reina’s bedroom. Reina threw the door open and Okabe followed her inside.

The room was as big if not slightly smaller than the master bedroom. The walls were painted in a rose-gold hue which complimented the off-white carpet that led into the room itself. Her bed was against the center of the wall to the right of the door with a nightstand on each side. One nightstand had a lamplight as well as a couple books related to Quantum Brain Mechanics stacked atop it. Her other nightstand contained a wireless phone charger stand, a digital clock, and a couple of loose objects that she neglected to put away. The bed itself was queen-sized and fully made. Atop it was a darker pink comforter, and an assortment of pillows and stuffed animals. It was cute.

On the opposite side of the room from the door was a maple desk which contained all sorts of textbooks, encyclopedias, and research journals in a neat row starting from the corner of the back wall; a desktop computer and its keyboard; and a pull-out drawer just underneath the lip of the desk itself. The desk also contained two tiers of cubbies on the right-hand side beneath the main level which contained manga, light novels, and other pop-culture things that she may have liked to have on-hand. Due to the carpeted floor, the part of the room that contained the desk and her pink rolling chair had a clear vinyl floor mat to ensure that everything was protected.

Just to the right of the desk was a white wardrobe with two doors that opened outwards as well as four distinct drawers assorted in a 2x2 square just beneath them. The wardrobe was also closed so Okabe couldn’t get a sense as to what it contained. A little further right at an equidistant location between the bed and its nightstands, and the wardrobe was a shut door — the only other door to the room besides the entrance.

“Bathroom’s right there,” Reina pointed at the shut door. “Clean towels are in the cabinet just below the sink, so feel free to grab one.”

Reina turned around to leave Okabe to his devices only to freeze and sheepishly look back at him, a blush evident on her face.

“If there’s a smell in there… please try to ignore it…” she looked down at the ground and toyed with her braid. “It’s… that time for me.”

Okabe looked at his daughter with creased brows, confused at the request. However, his brain very quickly made the connection and he couldn’t help feeling embarrassed for Reina’s sake. “Understood… I appreciate the honesty…?”

Reina nodded and then silently made her way to the closed door of the master bedroom. Okabe strode to his intended destination and opened the door. From the entryway he could very easily tell that the bathroom was where the difference between the master bedroom and this one was made extra apparent. It was essentially a small corridor as wide as just under double his wingspan walled by a roughly two meter vanity table that was built into the wall with a sink directly in the middle of it; and the other wall being the glass shower doors. At the end of this “corridor” was a traditional western toilet with a bidet and a trashcan next to it. There was about 30 centimeters of actual drywall that made up where the toilet was housed and on the left-hand side of it was the toilet paper roll holder. 

The faintest smell of iron tickled Okabe’s nose, forcing him to take a deep inhale to calm his immediately-elevated heart rate. Iron was just about all he smelled when outside in the Beta Worldline due to the sheer amount of bodies that the war and New Government regime racked up. He had to remind himself of his daughter’s warning. The only reason why he smelled iron was far more innocuous than bloodshed, and rightfully embarrassing for a teenage girl. He shook off whatever feeling he had and made his way in. On the way in, he turned on the light and fan, closed the door behind him, and then finally made his way to the cabinet beneath the sink which contained fresh, white towels.

Okabe hung the towel on the railing that served as a means to slide open the glass door and stripped down to his birthday suit. He looked at himself in the mirror as he did so, letting his eyes land on his belly. It was just a white splotch on his skin that meant nothing to him, but when Kurisu explained the specifics of how she was saved, he couldn’t help finding a sense of respect for the scar. He ran his hand over it — due to the fact that it had been 16 years, it was as smooth as the rest of his skin. The only hint that it even existed was just the fact that it never retained the same amount of melanin. The rest of his body was unremarkable. He built up quite a bit of muscle and general thinness from the stress of the war, but this body was a little more filled-out — still slightly muscular, but not as stickly thin as he was in the Beta Worldline.

After his quick analysis of himself, he hopped into the shower which had the exact same controls as the one in the master bathroom. He showered with the same quickness, scrubbing everything with the body wash that Reina had, though simply opting to wet his hair without putting any of the hair product in. He didn’t want to incur Reina’s wrath for using the things that maintained the very thing she adored. Without the hair product, he was able to shorten his shower to just over a minute and a half. Very quickly, he stepped out, wiped himself down with his towel, and then wrapped it around himself to step out of the bathroom and meet his daughter. As he stepped out, Reina entered the room, surprised at the sight of her father.

“Did you even let the water hit you? I woke you up super early because you always take your time in the shower.” In Reina’s hands was the change of clothes she picked out. It contained a pale-blue collared dress shirt, gray dress pants, a navy blue sports coat, black boxers, and dark socks.

“It’s a habit I picked up in the other worldline,” Okabe admitted as he grabbed his clothes from his daughter. “A really hard one to break at that.”

Upon further inspection of the clothes, Okabe could say he was satisfied. “You know, I expected you to pick out something frilly and eye-catching. I’m glad you contained yourself.”

Reina let out a snort at Okabe’s comment. “If I wanted to do that, I would have had you wear Mama’s clothes.”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” Okabe looked at the clothes once more and then slinked his way back into the bathroom to get changed.  He tucked his shirt into his pants and decided to hang the sports coat over his arm until they left the apartment. He needed to remind Reina to grab a belt for him because that was the only thing that looked incomplete.

Upon exit, he was immediately met with the sight of Reina holding out a brown leather belt and a silver watch. “I forgot to grab these, but here.”

Glad that she read his mind, he looped the belt around his waist and slid the watch onto his left wrist.

“Shall we get going?” He asked.

“Yup. There’s a park near here so we can hang out for a bit there before we walk to school. Let me just fix my bangs really quick and we can go.”

With that, Okabe waited a bit for Reina to fix her hair and then followed her lead out of the apartment, wearing a pair of brown oxford shoes that she suggested to accompany the belt before exiting altogether.

Date: November 17. 2036 6:25:37AM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

Kurisu Okabe stayed in the dark silence of her bedroom. She hadn’t left her bed ever since just before Maho returned Okabe to the apartment, and even now she refused to move from beneath the covers. She heard some voices coming from the living room, but she tuned them out. She even heard the door silently open with some rustling in the dresser she shared with Okabe, but she didn’t even bother turning to see who it was. Then she heard the large steel door that led into the apartment open and shut, returning everything to complete silence. She didn’t find it in her to care about who left and why. She just wanted to be alone.

Her thoughts were all the company she had for the better part of 15 hours give-or-take - the main thought that dominated everything else being what occurred the day before. Whatever guilt she had over the weekend thanks to what she allowed herself to do on Friday was now amplified by 1000 times. She was the main source of a panic attack for the person she well and truly loved. She was a horrific vision in his eyes as he begged and pleaded with her to not kill him. She reminded him of the horrible things that he had to do to reach Steins Gate. She couldn’t bring herself to face him or her children for what she had done. She was the main source of support for him ever since he arrived on the worldline and she went and ruined it.

Kurisu hugged the pillow she had been holding onto tighter. Even though she now knew the full story of what happened on the Alpha Worldline, there was still so much that she didn’t know about this current version of her husband. He had to deal with the weight of not only killing her, but someone else all for the sake of doing what was right in the end. Her emotions had been completely upended. She didn’t know what she should feel anymore. She was essentially lied to by the husband she made her memories with and traumatized the husband that she wished to know better. All she felt was numb. It was a numbness she didn’t know if she’d be capable of overcoming. She hadn’t cried a single tear since she hid herself in the bedroom even though she so desperately wished she could.

A knock on the door followed by the sound of the door opening quelled her thoughts very briefly.

“Mama?” It was the young, deepening voice of her son calling out to her in English. She chose to ignore it.

She heard a sigh and the sound of the door closing. She felt her heart grow heavier by the second. She was ashamed as a mother, as a wife, and as a person in general. However, those feelings of shame quickly transformed to surprise as she felt the covers from Okabe’s side of the bed shift and a weight placing itself within them. Naturally, she would have turned around to see what it was, but she felt petrified. After not having shifted positions for the last hour or so, she felt her body just forgot how to move. Despite this, she felt the weight get closer only to have the left arm of Haruki Okabe place itself over her. It was an awkward hug, his hand was closed in a fist and was quite a ways away from her chest.

“I’m sorry if you don’t like this,” his voice was a shaky whisper. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you.”

Kurisu felt him make the move to let go and get out of the bed, but she was finally able to get her own body out of its petrified state to grab his hand and keep him there. She adjusted his arm so that it could wrap itself flat across her collarbone, just below the throat so that he didn’t accidentally choke her out, but just above the chest to avoid any awkwardness he may have felt for cuddling his mother. She still remained facing away from him, but at the very least the extra heaviness in her heart began to evaporate.

Haruki obliged and adjusted his body so that his arm could be more comfortable in its new position.

“I’m sorry I’ve been a bad mother lately, Haru,” despite the sadness she felt, her voice came out steady and direct.

“I don’t recall myself or Reina calling you a bad mother, Mama,” now knowing that he could raise his voice, the shakiness disappeared. “As far as ‘lately’ goes, the worst you’ve been is absent in your room for like half a day. You never yelled at us, or hit us, or walked out on us, or anything like that.”

Kurisu stayed silent as she processed her son’s words. When she first became pregnant with the twins, her worst fear was that she would take on the aspects of her father’s parenting that scarred her. The initial nights of her pregnancy were sleepless ones as the stress of the possibility creeped into her heart. The only one that was capable of saving her from those thoughts was Okabe, and in the end she was glad that she could be more like her own mother as a parent than like her father.

In the midst of her processing, Haruki spoke again. “If anything, I’m sorry we were so hard on you when everything first started.”

Kurisu’s thoughts paused as her mouth reacted before she could think. “You don’t owe me an apology, Haru. You two were just expressing valid thoughts and fears. It was a moment of weakness on my end.”

“Cool, then we both have nothing to be sorry for,” Haruki blew air out of his nose as if he told a lighthearted joke.

They sat there in silence some more, but again Haruki was the first one to break it. “I thought I should let you know… Reina and Papa are walking to school together… so I’m gonna need you to drop me off when the time comes.”

The statement prompted a small snort out of Kurisu as she immediately realized what was happening. “Which of you schemers came up with the idea to divide and conquer your parents?”

“Boss said that plans can only be considered schemes if they are made with nefarious intentions. Trying to raise our parents’ spirits make a nefarious scheme, it does not.”

He spoke with the faux haughtiness and questionable diction of the mad scientist Arakawa Masamune. Hidden from the view of her son, Kurisu could feel a smile creeping on her face as her emotions slowly leveled themselves out.

“I suppose I’m inclined to agree with you, Masamune,” Kurisu wasn’t as good at the mad scientist talk as Okabe was, but once she realized that it was no longer “just a phase” for the children, she figured she’d at least try a little bit on her end. “It’s unbelievable to think that I produced mad scientists that are capable of such benevolent actions.”

“I am the one true inheritor of Hououin Kyouma’s Divine Left Arm after all,” Haruki laughed. “This divinity is what makes it possible.”

“So you’re saying that you came up with this plan?” Kurisu slightly turned her head, but not enough to peer at her son.

“...No,” Haruki sounded disappointed. “Well… I came up with the gist of it… but Reina helped with the specifics…”

“You already know my next question, right?”

“It’s called Operation Forseti!”

Forseti, the Norse god of justice and reconciliation. Because of Okabe’s knack to name every “operation” of his something Norse, she did the one thing a loving significant other would do and studied up on Norse mythology so as to catch any hidden meaning in the operation names he chose. Forseti’s secondary role as a god of reconciliation gave Kurisu the rest of the information she needed regarding her children’s plan. She let her head rest once more on the pillow, feeling warmth in her heart and in her face.

“I’m happy to see you’re trying so hard for Papa, now,” she said. “But it begs the question: what did Amadeus tell you to make you change your minds?”

“He made it known to us just how much faith he had in this memory-merge plan,” Haruki willingly answered. “...And that he’d remember how poorly we treated him when that plan succeeds… and that there’d be consequences if we didn’t get our act together…”

“It’s unlike Papa to threaten you two like that,” Kurisu furrowed her brows at Haruki’s admission. 

“Oh no, not the consequences you’re thinking of… more like a rift in our relationship with him. I don’t want Papa to become distant just because of this.”

“Mmm,” Kurisu slightly nodded her head, glad to have received the necessary clarification from her son.

There was yet another brief silence that Haruki broke. “Mama, do you love Papa as he is now?”

Kurisu stayed silent, prompting Haruki to continue. “It’s… not a problem if you do — he’s still Papa, after all. But it feels like your attitude towards him changed ever since you sent us off to school… I know I’m young and romance isn’t exactly a thing I consider my strong suit, but I’ve caught your longing looks at him despite the distance you kept over the weekend.”

Kurisu cursed the fact that her children were so observant of her. She didn’t think she made anything of how she was feeling obvious to them.

“Of course I love Papa,” she said. “No matter what memories he has, he’s still the same person deep down.”

“But… do you love him more now than before?” Haruki kept his voice level and gentle. “...Reina suggested that idea because she thought you looked more guilty than in love…”

Kurisu flinched at the question. She wanted to answer and deny it, but there was something within her that was forcing her mouth to remain shut. At her silence, she could feel Haruki’s hand retract itself away from her across her collarbone, place itself on her top shoulder, and forcefully turn her onto her back. She didn’t even try to fight it. She caught Haruki’s eyes as he positioned himself onto his knees on the bed, sliding out of the covers as he did so to keep his mother covered. The blurriness of his form and the inability to make out the expression he had on his face made Kurisu realize that she had been crying.

“Mama…” Haruki said, pulling a handkerchief from the pant pocket of his school uniform and tenderly wiped the tears from Kurisu’s eyes. “Something did happen when you sent us to school that day didn’t it?”

Kurisu blinked away the remaining tears, allowing her vision to clear up. Haruki didn’t look upset in any way, just concerned. “When Papa shared that story with us about what happened to him in 2010… I was upset with who he was before because he hid so much from me… from us…” 

Haruki adjusted himself, lowering his position to a seiza pose to give his mother his full attention while she spoke. “When I sent you off to school, I was confused as to why, so I listened in on the argument that Papa was having with Amadeus… and the gist of it was that Papa from before couldn’t trust us with the burdens he carried. The Papa of now comforted me through the feeling of betrayal, and in that comfort… I did fall in love with him as if he were a different person…”

Kurisu couldn’t look Haruki in the eyes while she spoke, but once she finished, she finally had the courage to look at her son whose expression was glum, but still gentle.

“So…” he began after processing a bit more. “You fell in love with this Papa… and you feel like you betrayed the Papa who betrayed you?”

Kurisu’s eyes widened in surprise. She expected to be shamed in some aspect by her son for practically cheating on his father, not to be made to feel silly for feeling how she did.

“Somewhere in that argument, I stopped seeing the two versions of Papa as the same person,” she explained, practically begging for her son to be mad at her. “The person I fell in love with back then is not exactly the same person I fell in love with now .”

Haruki put a finger up to his lip as he tilted his head in recollection. “I seem to remember someone saying that if we were able to merge Papa’s memories, we’d be able to create a more complete Papa.”

He looked back down at Kurisu with a smile. “You fell in love with two separate, incomplete aspects of Papa. One has the memories we grew up with that lacked the worldly experience to understand that some burdens aren’t meant to be carried alone; the other has that worldly experience, but lacks the memories we grew up with. Combine them both and we get the best of both worlds!”

Kurisu adjusted herself up to a seated position, a frown now on her face. “Since when did you become so wise on the morality of love?”

“Ever since I read the greatest love story to cap off Jujulands. ”

“Wait, Sensei finally released the last chapter for Part 9?”

“Yeah. It was supposed to be a surprise release last week, but the leaks for it came out the week before, so everyone was expecting it. I just waited for it to come out on Jump .”

“Huh. I’ve been so busy I must have missed it… But that’s besides the point!”

Kurisu only felt guilt at her son’s comforting words, her gaze dropping as the topic got back on track. “In my confusion about my feelings for Papa… I hurt him in an unforgivable way yesterday.”

Haruki tilted his head. “So that’s why Auntie Maho dropped him off. Did he not want to talk to you?”

“I…I don’t know,” she crossed her arms. “I felt ashamed for doing that to him, so I left him in your auntie’s care…”

“Without talking to him about it?!” Haruki clawed at his face with his hands, frustrated beyond belief. “Mama! Feelings are things to be expressed! That was the first thing you told me and Reina when we were having issues at school!”

Was she really getting schooled by her 14-year-old son right now?

“He was actively avoiding the room and I thought it was because either you or him were mad at each other! Now I’m hearing that you were both just too chicken to talk to each other this whole time?! It’s like you two are the main ship of a “will they, won’t they?” romcom that’s dragged on for two seasons too long!”

Well that’s hyperspecific.

“But… what about the Papa we made our memories with?” Kurisu kept trying to find ways to place herself squarely in the wrong. “Don’t you feel bad for him at all for the fact that I’ve gone and fallen in love with another version of him?”

“Not at all!” Haruki vigorously shook his head. “You’re forgetting the end goal in all of this, Mama. We’re going to merge Papa’s memories. He’ll have all the memories from before and all the memories of now. In all those memories, you were in love with him, not some version of him, but him. It doesn’t matter what old Papa thinks, nor what this Papa thinks because the new Papa with the merged memories could also be a different person based on these weird standards you’ve set. Are you gonna feel guilty for being in love with him too?”

Kurisu was completely outclassed by her son’s logic. This could have been a logical conclusion she would have come to eventually on her own, but the fact that it was made for her by her child quicker than she could form it herself left her utterly speechless. Just a couple days ago, the twins were passionately angry about the “intruder” in their father’s body, and now they picked up her slack and defended him from her of all people. She could feel the clouds within her soul begin to part. She shouldn’t feel guilty for being in love with Rintaro Okabe, he wasn’t actively upset with her for triggering a panic attack, and she had all the backing of her children to be with him while they worked to figure everything out. She made a huge mistake in hiding away just because she let herself get into her own head rather than talking about it with her husband.

“For someone who is not well-versed in the concept of romance,” she said, reaching out to pinch his cheek. “You sure have a way to see things in such a romantic light.”

“A mad shientisht hash no need for romansh,” Haruki indignantly crossed his arms while Kurisu pinched his cheek and stayed silent until she stopped. “But I have a need for two parents who love each other. Not a lot of people at school can confidently say that their parents are their best friends in a non-cringe way like I can.”

“Aww,” Kurisu giggled. “Mama’s your best friend?”

“W-Well I have other friends,” Haruki’s eyes darted away from Kurisu’s direction. “Lots of friends actually…! You’re just among them…”

“There are many things I can say to refute that, but I’ll let you keep your pride,” she teased Haruki. “So long as you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

Haruki grunted in response. He felt a buzzing sensation from his phone which made him pull it out of his pocket. Kurisu watched as her son eyed the screen.

“It’s from Reina,” he said. “Looks like Papa forgot his coffee this morning and is already struggling.”

He showed her his phone which displayed a selfie of the two — Okabe looking very handsome in his outfit, but also incredibly tired compared to their daughter with the bags he had in his eyes and the sweat that accumulated on his head.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll start getting ready, then.”

Date: November 17, 2036 7:37:00AM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

Rintaro Okabe was dying. That was the only explanation. His vision was blurry and he had a splitting headache, all for no reason! The time spent with his daughter started off perfectly fine, they talked about what happened between himself and Kurisu on Friday (of which he kept certain details private), the feelings that she was getting regarding the situation as it was unfolding over the weekend, his own side of things of what happened at the Neuroscience Institute, and he also earned a scolding from her for not being “man enough” to speak to Kurisu and nip the whole problem in the bud.

That conversation felt like it was forever ago. He tried his best to look normal next to his daughter as her school came into view, but he was absolutely suffering on the inside. He didn’t recall being in any situation where he got sick, and there was no way old age would have these consequences for simply walking. Something had to be afoot and he had to figure it out before it was too late.

“R-Reina,” he asked as nonchalantly as he could. “Have I ever complained about blurred vision and headaches?”

Reina giggled. “I’m surprised it took you this long to talk to me about it. You’ve been struggling for quite a while now.”

Okabe sighed. “Okay, fine, I’m not that good at hiding pain. What’s going on?”

“Have you never had caffeine withdrawals in the worldline you came from?”

The gears in Okabe’s head clicked — though rather painfully.

“I had no need for caffeine,” he blinked. “There was no point in stressing my heart out any more than it was.”

“Well, surprise! You’re a caffeine addict on this worldline and you’ve certainly deprived your body for a couple days.” Reina let out some jazz hands in Okabe’s direction, but he was too pissy to pay attention to them. “But worry not my dear father, I’ve already called for reinforcements.”

“I hope it’s a cement truck filled with coffee that I can dive into,” he grumbled.

“It’ll be even better,” Reina smiled deviously.

He decided to ignore it, at this point he’d accept any caffeine he could get if it meant making all the pain cease.

After a couple more minutes of silent walking, they finally reached the front gate which was packed with students being dropped off via car, or walking in like the father/daughter duo currently were. The academy itself looked massive behind the gate, but all Okabe could get a good look at was the front steps to the three-story building. It looked like a rather traditional private school building with the whole brick-and-mortar look, but the walls that he could see from outside the massive windows of the school were rather modern. It… was weird for Okabe in a sense.

“Ah, speaking of,” Reina looked ahead and ran towards a very familiar car that was pulled up just ahead and to the left of them. 

It was a red Kadillac sedan, the same one that Kurisu used to drive herself and Okabe to the Neuroscience Institute the day before. Okabe tried to freeze, but Reina doubled back to grab his arm and drag him with her. The passenger door flew open as they approached and Haruki stepped out in triumphantly dramatic flare - his fully slicked back hair undoing itself with the way he exited the car. The son’s eyes landed on the father’s visage, a proud smirk finding its way on his face before he approached.

“When all is said and done,” he pointed at Okabe, speaking in Japanese. “Just know that you are indebted to your Twin-Star Scientists.”

Haruki got behind Okabe and began to push his unsuspecting father towards the car door that he left open.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Okabe snapped at Haruki as he reached the door. “I have perfectly capable feet that I can use to walk.”

“Someone’s particularly snippy today,” he heard a voice he longed to hear from within the car. “Did Hououin Kyouma forget that caffeine is his lifeline?”

He peered into the car. Within it was his wife, wearing aviator sunglasses and a heartfelt smile that he hadn’t seen since Friday. Her right hand was extended towards him, holding a stainless steel rambler cup that Okabe could only assume was the nectar he needed to survive. Okabe looked back to see that his children had already disappeared within the crowd entering the school grounds before turning back towards his expectant wife.

“Perhaps if my Assistant cared enough to remind me,” he snarked sarcastically. “I wouldn’t be in this compromising position to begin with.” 

He leaned down to get into the seat and grab the coffee at the same time, but before he could grab it, Kurisu retracted the rambler, placed it in her left hand and extended her left arm out the window of the car. She tilted the cup precariously, threatening to spill the ambrosia that he longed for.

“I believe I misheard you. Did you say, ‘Thank you for saving me, my darling wife’?” she looked him squarely in the eye.

“T-Thank you for saving me, my darling wife,” he stuttered as he got settled in his seat and closed the door.

“That’s more like it.”

Kurisu brought the rambler back into the car and handed it directly to an Okabe who was eagerly ready to receive it. She then set the car into gear.

Okabe took a quick sip of the coffee, expecting it to be hot — which it was. But the warmth he felt spread through his body with just a few drops of caffeine meant that the cure was working. He looked at her, apprehensive of this apparent 180 in her attitude towards him.

She met his gaze, her foot still squarely on the break, and smiled. “Those children of ours really are amazing, you know?”

“I’m beginning to be made aware of that fact,” his apprehensiveness quickly dropped once he realized that Haruki enacted his own plan once Kurisu was alone in the apartment with him. “They certainly have the minds of schemers.”

“Apparently, Hououin Kyouma only ever considers a plan a scheme if it’s done with nefarious intent,” Kurisu laughed as she began to set the car in motion, being wary of any traffic that could come from her left. 

“That sounds like something I’d say,” Okabe said as he sipped his coffee happily. “Are we off to Viktor Chondria?”

“Why of course,” Kurisu said, the car now fully in motion. “I think it’s time we go about fixing that PTSD of yours.”

Chapter Text

Date: September 24, 2010 1:32:11PM JST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

The noise in Kurisu Makise’s head reached a fever pitch. She had so many questions that lingered in her mind for nearly two months as she searched for answers. And now, the means to getting those answers was right in front of her! He told her to follow him, he told her very earnestly that some “Organization” had eyes and ears everywhere and that they had to reach a hideout away from their spying. He looked so serious and she felt like she had no choice but to believe him since he did save her life. So why did she feel a pit in her stomach form as they passed the threshold of this supposed hideout? Why did her efforts feel like such a waste of time? And most importantly…

Why are we in a maid cafe?

“Nya?!” a cat maid with pink hair styled into two drilled pigtails ran up to the pair ecstatically. “Kyouma?! What are mew doing back so soon?”

So his name is Hououin Kyouma? What kind of parent hates their child that much to name them something so chuuni?

“Ah, Lab Member 007, I see you’re wearing the mark of the Future Gadget Laboratory with pride.”

Kurisu followed Kyouma’s gaze towards the maid’s chest. There, on the left strap of the apron just above her heart, was the very same pin that the man gave her less than an hour ago. She felt her grip tighten around her pin - was he just some pick-up artist? Kurisu gave her head a quick shake, even if he was, he did save her and she had to hear him out.

“Shh!” The girl was quick to interrupt him as she cautiously eyed Kurisu. “Faris has nyalready placed a stealth field on this badge, nya. If my enemies found out I became a part of the lab, mew’d be in big trouble. Mew can’t expose that I have it in front of other people.”

But… I can see it already?

Kyouma exaggeratedly turned to follow who Kurisu could only assume was Faris’ gaze. The look on his face was frightening, and the move itself made her flinch. She shut her eyes and leaned away from him.

“Worry not my dear feline friend,” she heard the rustle of the labcoat as Kyouma turned back to face Faris which allowed her to open her eyes again. “I have ensured that the frequency of all of our badges match up so that they remain visible to lab members only . My Assistant here has her own badge so she could already see it when we walked in.”

That’s the second time he’s called me his assistant now. Since when did I become one? And that’s not how stealth fields work in the slightest!

Kurisu could feel her face getting redder and redder. She tried so hard to keep her composure, but she slowly felt her frustration boil over into anger simply because she was now coming away with more questions than she was answers. She couldn’t stew in it for long before she saw pink in her field of view. She looked down only to see the cat maid staring intently into her eyes. Embarrassed, she quickly turned her head away.

“W-What are you doing?” Kurisu blurted out, redness continuing to burn her cheeks.

“So you’re the Assistant of Prophecy, nya,” Faris began analyzing Kurisu’s every feature, but what she said prompted Kurisu to turn back towards her with furrowed brows.

Prophecy?

“On the 11th hour in the realm between day and night, where the forces of good clash with the forces of evil. In that singular moment, to turn the tide of battle, Kyouma’s nyumber one ally, his assistant, must render her body unto him—”

“Ha ha –cough, cough, cough –!” Kyouma began cackling out of nowhere, but the cackles quickly devolved into a coughing fit as he gripped his stomach. “We must not –cough– reveal the prophecy or else it won’t come to pass, Faris!”

Once Kurisu fully processed the bit of the “prophecy” that she heard along with Kyouma’s words, her face immediately went beet red as her head immediately snapped towards the pervert. “W-What?!”

Has he been talking about me in that way?

Kurisu’s exclamation, the first time she spoke to him since running into him on the street, made Kyouma flinch before turning towards her, his face just about as red as hers. Instinctively, she covered her body when he turned to face her - she sure as hell was not gonna “render it unto” this pervert.

“N-Now, Christina,” he huffed as his voice began to shake from embarrassment. “There are many ways that one may interpret a prophecy. I-It doesn’t have to be literal… right Faris?”

There’s no -tina at the end of my name!

Kyouma shot a pleading glance toward the cat maid before them, but no comfort was to be found in her. She merely winked, a smug grin planted squarely on her face as she said “If the prophecy must remain secret, then so must its interpretation, nya.”

Faris then turned her attention to Kurisu once more, this time from a more comfortable distance outside of her bubble. “Christinya, was it? You look familiar…”

Faris put her finger to her lips as she analyzed Kurisu. Kurisu felt the need to set the record straight for once.

“It’s Kurisu. Makise Kurisu,” she said, extending her hand out in an attempt to shake Faris' hand. “I was recently published in Sciency , so you might recognize me from there.”

Faris shook her head, ignoring Kurisu’s outstretched hand. “No, that’s nyot right…. I’m sure that Faris and Christinya once stood shoulder-to-shoulder against a terrifying enemy in a past life…”

Is everyone in this town just a delusional freak?! I need to get out—wait…

Kurisu squinted her eyes at Faris as she dropped her arm. There was something about the cat maid’s words that resonated within her, but she couldn’t quite place it. Faris did seem familiar even though this was their first time meeting.

Oh God, is it something with the air? 

“I… I need to go,” Kurisu had enough of whatever today was. Everything about this whole situation was weird and she couldn’t stand it for a second longer.

Before she could even take a step back out of the door, she felt a hand wrap around her wrist, stopping her dead in her tracks. “Kurisu, wait.”

Startled by the sudden touch and the gruffness of the voice that demanded her - by her actual name - to wait, Kurisu let out a small yelp. She turned to look at her arm and caught the flash of a white lab coat sleeve fly from her peripheral vision as the hand that gripped her wrist suddenly released itself. She let her vision trail up to where the sleeve disappeared only to see Kyouma with his hand on the back of his head and his cheeks taking on a pinkish hue. His lips were in a pout and she could see his eyes glancing towards her, but never meeting her own for more than a few milliseconds. 

The sight itself made Kurisu’s own face heat up, making her immediately look down. He looked… cute. Her first impression of him when she first ran into him at Radio Kaikan was that he was just some average-looking guy who used way too much hair gel. That impression changed to considering him as roguishly handsome when he took the stabbing that was intended for her by her father - an impression she quickly came to regret after actually listening to this person for more than a few minutes at most. But with the way the light from the window of the cafe hit him at an off-angle to soften his sharp features, the way he sheepishly scratched the back of his head, the way he couldn’t meet her gaze for even a second…

Why am I finding him cute of all things?! Where has my taste in men gone?!

“W… What…” Kurisu shyly rubbed the arm that he grabbed as she looked up at him once more.

“I promised you answers and I intend to provide them,” his eyes still refused to meet hers, but the spark in them was back since they were squarely on Faris. “Give us a private booth away from prying eyes, Faris.”

Kurisu let her eyes scan the rest of the cafe. All she saw were sweaty blobs in their seats, some taking notice of her and just staring intently at her with mouths agape. The place seemed rather busy and she was sure she’d get assaulted by an ungodly smell if she stepped any further into the place. But the stares - all of them unwanted - brought shivers up and down her spine. Instinctively, she ducked behind Kyouma, letting his much bigger body hide her form. In her haste, she accidentally bumped into his back, knocking him forward slightly, but not enough to make him fall. She braced herself for a harsh reaction from him, readying herself to be yelled at or threatened, but nothing of the sort ever came.

“A-Actually,” she felt a comforting hand pat her shoulder as Kyouma still faced forward to speak to Faris. “Do you mind if we use the manager’s office, instead?”

She peeked out from behind Kyouma to get a good look at the maid’s reaction. The manager’s office sounded like a much better idea than being out in the open with these people. Faris caught Kurisu’s glimpse, a smirk on her face and a narrow-eyed look that suggested “ You’re going to make a mess in that office, aren’t you?” without actually saying it. All Kurisu could do was blush and hide behind Kyouma once more.

“I don’t think Faris or the myanager mind,” Faris responded to Kyouma’s inquiry. “Nyafter all, Kyouma did just make Faris a full-fledged lab member. We can make this exception for today because of it, nya.” 

“Perfect.”

At that Faris guided them completely perpendicular to the opening that led to the rest of the cafe and up a narrow set of stairs, allowing Kurisu to avoid the smell that she feared she’d run into. Once at the top of the steps, they walked down a hallway of slightly-ajar doors that led to changing rooms, bathrooms, and the like. At the end of the hall was the only closed door, the door that Kurisu could assume was the manager’s office. Faris fished a key out from her skirt and opened the door, ushering the pair to enter in front of her.

“Take as much time as you need, nya,” Faris said, staying at the entrance of the door. “Just make sure to clean up any mess you myake.”

With a wink, she shut the door and all the background noise that emanated from the cafe died down to a low hum. The manager’s office was a rather plain room. It had navy-blue walls and the carpet was just an extension of the black carpet that was in the hallway. However, due to less feet trudging on it, it did look much cleaner and sleeker. There were two pristine black leather couches in the corner of the room to the right of the door, each looking like they could comfortably sit two people with a coffee table in between them. At the back wall was the dark-brown wooden desk with stacks of papers sitting atop it. There were no decorations adorning the walls, nor was there any sign of the manager.

“A…Are you sure that cat maid had the manager’s permission to use this room?” Kurisu made her hesitance at using this room known. “They’re not going to walk in here and ask who we are, will they?”

“Your concerns are not necessary, Christina,” Kyouma walked towards the couches and plopped himself down on the couch that faced the door. “That cat maid was the manager.”

What the hell is wrong with these people?

“It’s always Christina with you. How come you were able to say my name correctly the first time we met, yet now you add that stupid -tina at the end of it like your life depends on it?” she crossed her arms, choosing to remain standing by the doorway. If he made any weird move, she’d kick him in the groin and run out.

“I don’t know what you mean, Assistant,” Kyouma humphed, his arms clasped over his head as he leaned back into the couch. “You were always and forever will be Christina .”

“Screw this,” Kurisu turned to grab the handle of the door, ready to fling it open. “I knew it was pointless trying to get answers.”

Before she could turn the handle, his words alone had the power to stop her. “But that’s just going to eat you up inside, isn’t it? A girl who prides herself on having all the answers not being able to have the answer to the most important question of her life? I can already imagine all the sleepless nights you’ll have.”

Kurisu’s head snapped back in Kyouma’s direction, a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. She’d already spent many sleepless nights up until this moment and she didn’t want to spend any more. But why did this guy have to be such a pompous asshole? She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of her attention.

“I’d much rather have sleepless nights than kowtow to someone like you,” she glared at the still-relaxed Kyouma, ready to retort any follow-up he made before leaving him there.

“The sheer force of Hououin Kyouma’s aura will make you bend the knee anyways, Assistant of mine! FUHAHA –cough cough cough –” Kyouma doubled over in a coughing fit, grabbing onto his stomach as he did so. Kurisu watched as a grimace full of pain erased the grin he had. This was the second time he did this, allowing Kurisu to confirm exactly why he had his coughing fits.

She let go of the door handle and rushed over to Kyouma as he tried to steady his now very shaky breathing. The man was pale and a sweat formed all across his brow, but otherwise he seemed totally responsive.

“W-Wait Christina, what are you doing—ah!” Kyouma yelped as Kurisu grabbed the hem of his white t-shirt and threw it over his face.

She exposed his stomach, a white bandage running from just above his belly-button all the way to just underneath his sternum. She investigated it closely, ignoring the squirms and muffled complaints of the wound’s owner. No blood was pooling nor was any part of the bandage coming loose. He got lucky that his boisterousness didn’t tear anything.

Her mind flashed back to that day. If he wasn’t there, she wasn’t sure if she’d have been so lucky to be alive like he was. Despite everything he did that tipped off every warning siren she had, that day was completely different. She remembered the earnestness with which he first treated her when she bumped into him on the staircase, his playing the fool when she pulled him out of her father’s lecture, and the resolve he had when confronting her father before he could kill her. When she thought of that, her animosity began to evaporate.

But wait. It’s been two months since the stabbing. Why does he still have a bandage?

Kyouma’s muffled complaints brought Kurisu back to reality. Her eyes wandered away from the wound and towards Kyouma’s torso as a whole. The curly chest-hairs that glowed with sweat, the quick rise and fall of his belly as he breathed, his thin frame that sat somewhere between wiry and athletic. Blood began to rush to her face as she realized what she was doing and she immediately backed away from Kyouma, letting the shirt fall back over his body.

“D-Did your lust overcome you or something?!” he complained. “I knew American women were forward, but not to the point of sexual assault!”

“Y-Your wound should be fully healed by now!” Kurisu deflected, fully aware that she did just check out his body. “Why does it still look freshly bandaged?”

“That answer,” Kyouma’s breathing calmed down. “Lies in the explanation I promised you.”

She waited for him to continue, but he just stared at her, not making any movement. She continued waiting and still nothing.

“Are you going to explain it?” Kurisu finally broke the silence.

“Last I recall, you were ready to swing open that door and run off without the answers,” a smile finally formed on his face. “I take it you changed your mind?”

Kurisu could feel her blood boiling, but she’d already come this far. She let out a breath as she silently made her way to the couch opposite Kyouma and sat on it. She felt something pulling on the corners of her mind like an urge she couldn’t fight as she looked at the man in front of her. She let the urge overcome her.

“Explain yourself, Okabe Rintaro.”

Her brow immediately furrowed and she looked down at the floor in perplexion. Why did it make sense to call this guy by that name? He always called himself Hououin Kyouma.

She looked up in her confusion, mouth slightly agape and she was glad that she did. Had she not, she would not have spotted the recognition that flashed across his face before his own brow furrowed.

“I never told you that name,” he leaned forward, his voice taking on a faux graveness that she could spot from a mile away. “My name is Hououin Kyouma.”

“I know you recognized it,” she bit back. “You acted like you knew why I lashed out at you the way I did when you first called me ‘Christina’, so I know you know who Okabe Rintaro is. Why would I call you that?”

The man in front of her briefly twiddled his thumbs before leaning back once more, sighing. It seems like even he knew that there was so much bullshit she could take from him in a day.

“Okabe Rintaro is the name I use in public spaces,” he said. “It’s also the name I use on many a legal document.”

This guy was trying to get me to call him by some weird chuuni name this whole time?! 

Kurisu humphed, leaning back into her own couch as she crossed her legs. That was one answer for a question that she didn’t originally have. But how did she know that name if he only ever referred to himself as Hououin Kyouma? Her brain was a muddled mess.

“So that’s why I couldn’t find you…” she recalled her mad search for a stabbing victim by the name of Hououin Kyouma throughout the rest of July and much of August, but her search pulled up nothing. 

But then she realized the other bit that made her search even more perplexing. There was no stabbing victim on the day that he saved her – the only victim being her unconscious self.

“...How did you get to the hospital…?” The more she thought about it, the more confused she got. Her eyes flitted back and forth across trying to search for an answer, but nothing she had made sense.

“Time travel.”

Kurisu’s eyes shot up, her glare forming once more to the point that she was blind to whatever look he had on his face.

He’s never going to take this seriously.

“Okay, I’m done,” she uncrossed her legs and made a move to stand. “You have my gratitude for saving me, but I hope our paths never cross again.”

“I’m serious, Kurisu,” Okabe said before she could fully extend her legs.

Kurisu allowed herself to look at him clearly. There was not even a hint of a smirk on Okabe’s face, just an intense look that reminded her of that day when he threatened her father with the knife he was stabbed with. She slowly let herself back down into the couch, eyeing the man - and the exit to the office - carefully. “Explain.”

At her prompt, Okabe got into the story of that day from his perspective. Knowing that her death would potentially lead to World War III, he traveled back in time with a friend by the name of Suzuha Amane (who was apparently his current best friend’s daughter?) on August 21st. Once he was able to save her, he returned to the present where he was admitted in the hospital. It was only today that he was released. The story in itself sounded way too fantastical to just be made up, but Kurisu didn’t know just how delusional this guy could get. For one, why such a massive bandage for a wound caused by a knife? Was he just trying to make her pity him?

“Why did it take you a month to heal in the hospital? That knife couldn’t have been more than 3 centimeters in length.” Kurisu asked a follow-up question.

“...The sheer power allotted to make my brain think the way it does slows my healing factor significant–”

“You know you’re talking to a neuroscientist, right?”

Okabe sighed, his intense eye-contact immediately turning into yet another avoidant gaze. Kurisu didn’t understand why he struggled so much to answer something so simple.

“In order to ensure you were saved…” he started slowly. “You needed to be covered in blood. The wound that the knife caused… it wasn’t big enough to do that… so I made it bigger…”

He tenderly rubbed his belly. “I just reached the last stage of packing the wound, so I was finally allowed to go home.”

Kurisu allowed herself to feel stunned. “...Why was that necessary?”

“It was just a requirement I had to meet to ensure you weren’t killed. Your father could have come back to finish the job if it didn’t happen.”

But he ran away. If I wasn’t knocked out, I would have been able to walk out of my own volition.

She was about to open her mouth again to keep arguing, but everything came to a screeching halt when she looked at the grimace that became very apparent on Okabe’s face.

“I-I’m sorry,” she quickly said. “I got so carried away in my curiosity that I lost sight of the fact that you also underwent a traumatic event.”

“It’s fine…” he said, still not meeting her gaze. “I’m just utterly grateful that you’re still in the world of the living.”

Kurisu could feel her heart skip a beat at Okabe’s statement. Was she really that important to him that he could find happiness in the mere fact that she was alive? Her brain began to feed her fantasies, not needing much to get going.

She got up from the couch, surprising him with her approach. His startled expression gave way to confusion as she strode confidently to the couch that he found himself on. She didn’t give the guy a chance to move, plopping herself down squarely onto him and straddling his legs as she faced him. Her breathing was heavy, needy - her face was red with heat as she looked very expectantly at his lips. His mouth was slightly agape, his breathing also getting heavier, seemingly getting the idea of what she wanted. She grabbed his face and smashed her lips into his, a little rough for the first kiss she always fantasized about, but the desire for him overrode everything. It was sloppy, she could feel his tongue push against hers as they fought their own tug-of-war — a tug-of-war that she wasn’t going to lose. Applying a slight bit of pressure, she pushed him down on the couch, allowing him to adjust so that his whole body could lay across it. With her position of dominance, she continued to hungrily attack his mouth, she wanted to taste everything.

She could feel her lower half getting excited, making her question just how attractive she found the scene before her. This man below her was a slave to her desire — she could do whatever she wanted to him and he was going to oblige. That was the relationship that was established the minute that he allowed her to push him down. Trying to oblige her lower half’s needs, she clawed hungrily at Okabe’s pants, unbuttoning them and pulling them down. The only thing that stood between her and the very thing that she wanted to have was a thin piece of fabric that struggled against the pressure that Okabe’s own thing exerted on it. She gently gripped the waistband of Okabe’s boxers and pulled them down to reach the promised land.

“Christina?”

Kurisu blinked and she found herself still at her own couch, her breathing slightly ragged and her face still red — though this time due to shame and embarrassment. She looked at Okabe who only seemed to return her look with total perplexion.

“Did something happen?” he asked, expressing his concern.

“I-It was nothing!” she very quickly tried to hide her face. “I just got lost in thought, that was all!”

From behind her hands, she saw Okabe’s smile grow as wide as ever.

“The flushed cheeks, the ragged breathing, the shame you feel,” he began listing what he saw. “Did my Assistant happen to experience a fantasy starring Hououin Kyouma in the lead role?”

“W-What kind of ridiculous accusation is that?!” she lashed back. “I’d sooner get lobotomized than think about doing that with you of all people!”

He let out a quiet cackle as he continued leering at her. “The genius pervert has shown her hand! I merely stated that you had a fantasy, yet you gladly filled in the rest of the information without my prompting you! But worry not Assistant, as a man of many talents, I know how easy it is for women to fantasize all about me in that way — I shall think nothing of it.”

“Yeah right you perverted virgin!” Kurisu had to get on even footing. She stood up as she continued speaking. “The only women who’d throw themselves at an incel like you reside in asylums for the mentally ill!”

“N-Not true!” Kurisu smiled internally as Okabe’s denial showed that she struck a nerve. “As if a sheltered maiden like you would know anything about Hououin Kyouma’s exploits!”

“Oh please. The only exploits you have are for glitches in single-player RPGs because no one would ever associate themselves with you!”

Okabe let out an irritated huff at Kurisu’s words before standing to meet her where she was at and pointing a finger at her. “S-Silence, Christina! This is no way an assistant should treat their lab leader!”

“For the last time, there’s no -tina, and I’m not your assistant!”

There was no point in continuing this scene with this guy. She got the answers that she wanted, so she began making her way to the door. “I appreciate the answers even if they’re nonsensical and most likely false. Goodbye, have a good life.”

Kurisu didn’t even wait for any retort from the guy. She turned the door handle and opened the door just enough for her to squeeze her way out. With the door shut behind her, she was met with silence once more, but there was something that still tugged at her as she walked, this time within her heart. She looked back at the closed door and then looked down at the hand that she held over her heart. 

Why… why do I feel like this for someone like him ?

Her brain was trying its absolute hardest to fight whatever was going on with her heart, but her heart seemed to be effortlessly winning. 

Ugh, fine! You win stupid heart of mine!

Kurisu grabbed her phone from within her pocket and turned back to the room that she just left. She cracked the door open and caught the sight of Okabe lying peacefully on the couch, one hand clutching his belly, the other holding onto his hair. She could see a sweat forming once more on his brow — he must have exerted himself trying to fight with her. She gulped down whatever hesitations she had and flung the door open, bringing his attention to her and forcing him to shoot up once more into a straight-backed seated position.

Cute.

“W-What is it, Christina? Did you forget something?”

Kurisu walked up to Okabe, who slowly leaned his body away from her as she approached. Now just a step or so away, she extended her phone out to him.

“Y…Your email,” she couldn’t bear to look at his face as she spoke. “...My contact information is the least I can give you as thanks…”

Unbeknownst to Kurisu Makise, the split-second decision to listen to her heart cemented her fate to come for the next two decades of her life. A decision that she somehow never came to regret.

Date: November 17, 2036 8:08:41AM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, progenitor of my memories.”

On the terminal screen within the bowels of Viktor Chondria’s Neuroscience Institute, Rintaro Okabe came face-to-face with himself. He donned the all-black attire that got him torn apart by the women in his life, his hair fell the way it naturally did for a period of time during the fall of 2010 — given the length of it, it covered much of his face, falling down as far as his nose, yet still parted enough to show his eyes. There was also the general gentle, melancholic nature that his face gave off that radiated an innocence totally contradictory to the idea of Hououin Kyouma. It was an odd sight for Okabe as he looked down to inspect himself — having replaced his blue coat with a lab coat, and his hair still being slicked back. He didn’t know that his memories would produce an A.I. that was the spitting image of what he looked like when he was 18-years-old.

“ That’s how you view yourself?” the snide voice of a certain short Director cut through Okabe’s reminiscing. “You look…normal… it’s creepy.”

Just to prove her point, Maho Hiyajo shivered at the sight of the Amadeus A.I.. Okabe’s eyes narrowed in the direction of his companion who he swore donned the exact same clothes as the day before and was having way too much fun at his expense.

“I only ever looked like that for about four months before I started styling my hair again,” he grumbled. “I can’t imagine why the A.I. would choose to perceive itself this way.”

“Worry not my dear companions! The explanation is quite simple, really,” [Okabe] began to answer their unasked questions. “This is merely the form I’ve decided to inhabit so that it may be easier to differentiate between myself and the other Kyouma. Do not judge a book by its cover, Hiyajosephina.”

Maho scowled at the screen. “I see nothing can be done to mask that rotten personality of yours. And ‘Hiyajosephina’? Really? Are you so unoriginal that you somehow came up with the same nickname for me in the other worldline?”

The question was directed at the Okabe made of flesh and blood. He shrugged, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “Some things will always be constant no matter the worldline. I am Okabe Rintaro after all.”

“Unfortunately so,” Maho grumbled before turning her attention to the A.I. once more. “You don’t have as much agency as your flesh-and-blood self. Call me any more of those weird nicknames and I’m going to infect you with a virus.”

“Quite a drastic step to take, Little Girl,” Okabe stepped in, teasing Maho where [Okabe] couldn’t. “Spare the poor fool.”

Maho’s head, again, slowly turned towards Okabe, her disgust making itself increasingly evident. “I may not have the means to infect you with a virus, but I have a loyal best friend who happens to be your wife. I recommend you choose your words more carefully, Okarin-san .”

“Y-Yes ma’am,” Okabe decided to drop the teasing. As of late, Kurisu has proven just how terrifying she could truly be if she were upset with him in any way.

The wife in question was in the main building of the Neuroscience Institute. Kurisu and Maho alternated tasks every week: one would focus on any personal project they were conducting during working hours, while the other did all the directorial duties such as approving projects, assigning project funds, reviewing staff applications and requests, answering communications from the university board, etc.. Maho was on directorial duty last week, but because of her passion for her current project, she would stay for far too many hours overnight just to be able to make progress on it. Now, released from the reins of administrative duties with Kurisu taking over, she was free to work as she pleased.

Kurisu only stayed for about five minutes to give her thanks to Maho for dropping off her husband the day before, but quickly strode off to the main building. As such, she never got to see the form that [Okabe] took.

“I wonder what Kurisu would have thought of this,” Maho stroked her chin at the visage of the A.I. before her. “I have no clue what attracted that woman to a chuuni manchild such as yourself, but seeing you like this… I can maybe see it.”

[Okabe] furrowed his brow. “Is this your shy version of hitting on me, Maho?”

Okabe could see red paint Maho’s cheeks before she snapped at the A.I. again. “It’s Hiyajo-san to you . If you’re going to be this unpleasant to work with, I’d prefer you look less innocently friendly.”

“Your wish is my command, Madam Director,” [Okabe] snarkily replied before dramatically whipping his head back and allowing his hair to take the usual slicked-back form that everyone was used to. On top of that, his face aged up to that of someone in their mid-40s.

“Better,” Maho said and then turned to face Okabe. “I’m confident in my code, but there might be variables that I didn’t account for, so it may be a long day. Shall we get started?”

Date: November 17, 2036 11:49:58AM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

The control room buzzed with the frantic activity of its two sole inhabitants. Monitors hummed, data scrolled across the terminal screen, and the soft clicks of a keyboard filled the air. Okabe sat at his desk which was well behind Maho, who was intently focused on Amadeus’ terminal, typing rapidly as she monitored the progress of her work. As predicted, there were some unaccounted-for variables that she had to correct which was the cause for why they were currently on hour three of simply trying to connect the code to Amadeus’ code base.

Okabe was supremely out of his depth. His past self may have been of much more assistance given neuroscience was something he studied, but at the moment, his only expertise lied in particle physics, not brain science. Every suggestion he made was immediately shot down by Maho as child’s play, so, in an effort to try to glean some sort of knowledge and stop bothering the ever-frustrated director, Okabe resorted to going over the PhD thesis he presented which was saved on his computer. It was a 122-page work, with 16 or so pages simply being the appendix for the works referenced within. The title of the work was: Quantum Cognitive Models for Perfect Memory Recall in Amadeus . Truthfully, Okabe didn’t know how he could even come up with such a theory.

According to Kurisu, who helped explain what happened over the past 26 years, this theory was used as the initial foundation to perfect the codebase that ran Amadeus’ Memory Storage unit. A foundation which Kurisu and Maho helped optimize to cut down on the so-called “spaghetti code” that Okabe used so as to not bog down Amadeus’ central server. However, the secondary objective of the theory was to try and find a scientific reasoning for Reading Steiner and see if it was a process that could be recreated within A.I. — a secondary objective that still perplexed him up until the memory-swap. 

Okabe scrolled through the models that formed the algorithms for memory storage and retrieval within Amadeus, finding some subtle similarities between them and the equations he had to keep in mind for the time machine. After all, despite the differences in application, both specialties were well-within the realm of quantum mechanics. His eyes then landed on the memory retrieval algorithm: it leveraged the process of quantum interference in order to explain how to develop a more accurate model for memory-recall that relied on the context of other memories. His past self mainly focused on constructive interference since the goal was to provide perfect memory recall, which meant that every memory provided only served to continuously reinforce the recollection of others. 

His eyes then looked up at Maho who was still impatiently tapping away at the keyboard, frustration beginning to become evident. “I know the code base relies on constructive quantum interference, but is there any part of it that’s destructive?”

Maho sighed. “Your other self toyed with the idea of it in his own personal experiments, but nothing came of it. All it did was wipe select memories from the system, but our goal isn’t to wipe the traumatic memories, rather to ‘forget’ the feelings associated with them.”

“Is Amadeus even capable of being triggered into a panic attack?” 

“No,” Maho was quick to respond. “While that neural interface you used was able to capture all of your memories, the physical structures of the brain are rebuilt by the A.I. itself, so it did not inherit the damage incurred by your trauma.”

“But wait, shouldn’t my Reading Steiner work the same way?” Okabe began to ponder. “In the Beta Worldline, I never developed a caffeine addiction, but I inherited this body’s receptors that make me experience withdrawals. How come I’m still traumatized by my memories of that worldline then?”

“Based on what you’ve told me yesterday,” Maho said so matter-of-factly that she may as well have already considered what Okabe questioned. “Your brain’s already been conditioned by the trauma you experienced on the Alpha Worldline. The additional memories you’ve accrued from the Beta Worldline only serve to trigger those damaged receptors in many more ways than you may have before.”

Okabe sat there thinking about what Maho said. He and his other self shared the experiences of the Alpha Worldline as well as killing Kurisu on July 28th. There was no doubt that he would have still developed PTSD even without the memories of World War III and the state of the post-war world. While she may have answered his question, the answer itself led to one more.

“If Amadeus isn’t capable of having PTSD, then, what’s the code you’re working on?”

“It’s a code designed to help map specific neural patterns within a subject’s amygdala. With that map, we’d be able to run simulations around modified memory engrams related to the traumatic event in an effort to regulate the emotional response pattern that triggers a flashback.”

“...So you’re giving Amadeus the ability to be traumatized…” Okabe tried to make sense of Maho’s words.

“In a sense,” she said. “The avatar itself won’t be of much use in the state we’re about to put it in, so we’re just going to observe the response within its ‘brain’ and compare it to the base — that is your brain.”

“So once you get an acceptable result, you’re going to use the neural interface to overwrite my memories with the untroubled A.I.’s?”

“Wrong,” Maho plainly stated. “A memory overwrite doesn’t just fix the physical damage in your brain. Instead, any disruptions within your emotional response pattern caused by traumatic memories will be precisely targeted by Amadeus and will be stimulated with the appropriately modified engrams until those disruptions are no more. We’re going to use that neural interface to train your brain into forgetting the feelings evoked by the trauma.”

Okabe then remembered what Kurisu said about how Amadeus was used to undo the effects of degenerative brain conditions. “By altering the internal machinations of the brain, we’d be able to fix the physically-deteriorating structure. However, unlike the work done to cure Alzheimer’s and dementia where you constantly feed a subject their memories until the brain is able to reform itself, you’re targeting the amygdala and actively making it forget how it responded to the trauma until the affected neurotransmitters and receptors are able to undo the damage themselves.”

“Bingo,” for once Maho seemed happy at not having to disprove Okabe’s layman’s terms. “We’re fast-tracking your therapy, Okarin-san. You’re welcome.”

“I imagine this might take a while, then,” Okabe sighed. “I don’t think we’ll be able to finish this within a day.”

“Of course we wouldn’t be able to,” Maho chuckled for once. “But don’t worry. The conservative estimate that you and I came up with was a week of twice-per-day neural stimulation being enough to relieve someone’s symptoms. If luck is on our side, it might be less.”

There were a couple more keyboard clicks followed by the click of a tongue. It seemed like Maho was reaching her boiling point regarding the coding process. “It seems like I’m going to have to phone a friend for this…”

He saw her tab out of the code screen that she had pulled up and clicked on a profile icon within the terminal. Within an instant, a figure he recognized popped up on the screen, clad in a lab coat just like him, and a rather dejected look on his face. 

“Looks like you’ve been put through the ringer [Rintaro],” Maho remarked. “Upset about the consequences of your actions?”

The Amadeus version of his past self glanced up at Maho before letting his eyes fall back down to the “floor” of his domain. It seemed like the past couple days were rather rough for the A.I.. As for Maho, she also expressed her disappointment in his past self for hiding such important aspects of himself just for the sake of keeping secrets. Though, her reasoning was more professional than personal since his past self’s refusal to open up about what happened on the Alpha Worldline would have needlessly delayed the study they were running on PTSD. It was just like Maho to be blunt, though. Okabe was sure that even he would be hurt at the lack of empathy in the director’s words.

Maho kept pushing. “I’ve never seen you this stunned into silence since Professor Leskinen asked you to present Amadeus at the Cognitive Neuroscience Society ’s anniversary meeting. I should record this reaction for Kurisu to see.”

[Okabe]’s eyes lit up at hearing Kurisu’s name being mentioned before dulling once more. “I’m sure she wouldn’t want to hear any mention of me at the moment.”

“She is most definitely incensed with you,” Maho laughed. “Be grateful that we’re all still working to re-integrate you into your body.”

With those words, Maho moved to the side to show Okabe to the camera that Amadeus used to view the real world. [Okabe]’s eyes focused on his flesh-and-blood self, who met his gaze with a mix of curiosity and concern. He was unsure if that version of himself was still upset with him for sharing all the secrets that were kept. All that was evident in the eyes of the A.I. was a deep sense of regret.

“The man whose memories I hold nearly cost us the love of our life,” [Okabe] spoke directly to Okabe. “I’m grateful that you were able to pick up the pieces that we dropped.”

With those words, [Okabe] bowed deeply. It seemed, in fact, that the A.I. finally learned the lesson that Okabe learned during his struggles in the Beta Worldline.

“That’s gross,” Maho interjected. “The only person you’re pleasant with is yourself? How narcissistic.”

“Silence, Hiyajosephina,” Okabe defended Amadeus. “You’re getting in the way of a critical character development scene.”

Maho clicked her tongue again then turned back to the screen. “As much as I’d like to continue the banter, there’s a reason why I pulled you up, [Rintaro].”

[Okabe] straightened up, his expression becoming more focused and determined so that he may prove himself useful. “How can I be of service?”

Maho first began explaining the situation. The study they were conducting only recently began, so the set of memories that were backed up in the system had no recollection of it ever happening. She explained the hypothesis that she and Okabe’s past self came up with as well as the solution that they worked on developing together. However, most of the code they developed was encountering unexpected errors when trying to integrate with the codebase.

“What errors are we dealing with, specifically?” [Okabe] brought his hand up to his chin as he was fully caught up with the situation.

Maho sighed and pulled up the error log, sharing the screen with Amadeus after a couple mouse clicks. “Most of the issues seem to stem from data synchronization and memory access violations. The code we made isn’t aligning with the existing foundation as if it were just completely incompatible”

“That just sounds like a problem with the way the new code interacts with the existing memory management routines,” Okabe listened to his A.I. self in awe. He himself could talk up a storm when explaining the functionality of a time machine, but they were beginning to lose him. “Based on my scans, I take it that it’s safe to assume that the original framework that you optimized has been untouched in these past two months?”

Maho nodded. “There’s been no real reason to work on it. Kurisu and I streamlined just about everything and your real self took a break from toying with that destructive interference study he was doing.”

“You sound like you know where to start, [Kyouma],” Okabe, totally out of his depth, relegated himself to the role of cheer squad captain as he tried to understand the experts.

“Of course,” [Okabe] responded confidently. “First, we need to ensure that the new code's data structures are properly aligned with the existing memory model. Secondly, we need to look at the timing mechanisms for data access. If the new code introduces any latency, it’s going to cause synchronization errors.”

Maho’s eyes lit up at the discovery of her own epiphany. “Because the neural mapping algorithm is scanning specific memories that evoke an emotional response, it’s directly clashing with the ‘total memory recall’ part of the initial codebase!”

“Precisely!” [Okabe] began to get excited as Maho began typing into the source code under his supervision.

“I’ll isolate the sections of memory retention within the base and the new code and run them through a profiler to pinpoint where exactly they’re incompatible with each other,” Maho said with renewed purpose. “Once we find the points of contention, I can adjust the new code to ease the integration process.”

“And what of the errors caused by the potential latency of the new code?” Okabe tried to bring attention to the second point that [Okabe] brought up while Maho was dealing with the first.

“Of course, now that we are retrieving neural patterns related to emotional response, there’s a chance that the algorithm for that retrieval isn’t as optimized as the foundation,” [Okabe] explained while Maho focused on her work. “It’s no offense to what Maho and my real self developed — the codebase is just that perfect that the slightest overlooked imperfection will cause a problem. Any delay in latency throws the entire system off so if new code is introduced to the foundation that makes the retrieval process slower, the system will simply reject the addition and spit out an error.”

Okabe nodded along, thankful for the less condescending tone that Amadeus adopted compared to Maho. He tried to prove his understanding: “So the Amadeus system dislikes any inefficiency and the data structures that make up the neural mapping algorithm, while perhaps near-perfectly optimized, still aren’t enough for it to be accepted by the system.”

“A fast learner!” [Okabe] applauded his flesh-and-body self. “I always knew I was the smartest in the room.”

“Quiet you,” Maho growled at [Okabe]. “Look into the data structures for me and find where the bottlenecks in retrieval could be caused. I need to work on the problem points that the profiler gave me.”

“Yes ma’am” [Okabe] saluted, then grabbed the code from the source file that Maho provided and plastered it all across his background. Just from Okabe’s perspective, it was a lot of code.

“And you criticized my real self’s original algorithms for containing a lot of spaghetti code,” [Okabe] looked up and down the wall of text he created. “All this just for an addition to the base?”

“You’re asking for a slow and painful death via Trojan virus,” Maho snapped at the A.I. as she typed. “Your real self developed half of it while I worked on the other half. I’m sure the differences will be made apparent to you.”

[Okabe] moved the wall up to see the lower half of the code and an understanding “Ah” escaped his lips. “My apologies. It seems like the part of the data structure that’s causing the synchronization issues is coming from my real self’s half of the work.”

Maho let air out of her nose at [Okabe]’s admission. “I told you so. Fix your work, please.”

[Okabe] cracked his neck and knuckles, Maho continued typing away enthusiastically, her tongue finding a spot at the top of her lip, and Okabe merely leaned back as a spectator, trying to understand what the experts were up to.

Date: November 17, 2036 4:50:23PM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

A loud thud escaped the speaker of the terminal located within Amadeus’ Control Room; a yawn escaped the lips of the woman in front of that terminal; and a soul escaped from the body of the man observing it all from his desk. It was practically a full work-day of simply trying to integrate the new neural mapping code into the codebase. Nonstop work from Maho and [Okabe] (save for the small lunch that Maho got out of the fridge and ate from her desk alongside Okabe) was only just now complete. [Okabe], his A.I. brain fried from cutting down on the fat of his real self’s work, collapsed in a heap once he edited the final bit of code to match Maho’s half of the work. Only a couple minutes before, Maho was able to isolate the final incompatible bits of the algorithm and reworked them in one fell swoop. And yet, despite the close attention that Okabe paid to the work being done, he still remained as lost as he did when he first arrived. All he could do was review his PhD thesis, but even that was bordering on near incomprehensible to him.

“So… is it all done?” Okabe looked up from his screen after hearing the thud from Amadeus’ speaker.

“Somehow,” Maho stretched her arm upwards, eliciting a moan as she cracked her shoulder. “The algorithm has been fully integrated into the codebase and we’re ready to begin the first phase of the study.”

She dropped her arm and then faced Okabe. “All that’s left is the actual mapping part of your amygdala and then we can call it a day. I’ll have Amadeus run some initial simulations overnight, but I’d rather look at the data produced with a fresh set of eyes tomorrow.”

Okabe nodded, ready to play the role of subject — a role that he knew best at this point. 

He got up from his seat and went towards the center of the room where Maho was - where the neural interface sat waiting. Maho motioned for him to sit in the chair that she had been using and moved to place the headgear on his head, adjusting the settings and ensuring everything was in place.

"Alright, Okarin-san," Maho began, her tone serious. "This process is going to involve actively stimulating your emotional response patterns to create an accurate map, so just to warn you, there is a high chance that any traumatic memories you have may surface as a result. It’s not going to be easy. If at any point it becomes too much, you need to tell me. Do you understand?"

Okabe nodded, determined beyond all belief. “I understand. Give me your best shot.”

Maho returned to the terminal, now standing, and began typing into the keyboard. On the screen of the terminal, which could now be seen clearly from where he was sitting, was a graph and many charts that were meant to showcase the real-time data gathered from his brain activity. Her hand then guided the mouse to a button on the screen that simply said “Initiate”.

"Starting neural mapping in three... two... one..." Maho’s voice was steady, but there was a hint of concern underlying her professionalism as she clicked on the mouse.

Okabe felt a slight tingling sensation at the base of his skull as the device connected to his brain in the same way that it did when Kurisu scanned his memories. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, trying to remain calm.

Almost immediately, the memories began to surface and his eyes glazed over. First, was Mayuri's first death in the Alpha Worldline. He saw her lying there, lifeless, her watch broken beside her. The pain was immediate and sharp, like a knife twisting in his chest. He felt the familiar rush of panic, the overwhelming grief, and the desperate helplessness. Then came his first experience after returning from the Alpha Worldline, his killing of Kurisu Makise. He felt the switchblade of Kurisu’s father bury itself deep into her abdomen, he heard her shocked gasps for breath, he heard her pleas of not wanting to die. He grit his teeth.

Maho kept a close eye on Okabe, the mouse remaining on the “Initiate” button which had now turned to “Abort”, ready to halt the process if necessary. "Okarin-san, how are you holding up?"

“It’s… it’s fine…” Okabe managed to force out through shut eyes. “L-Let it run…”

His mind then flashed to the initial firebombing of Tokyo at the onset of World War III. He was in a mad dash all across Akihabara and Ikebukuro trying to gather everyone he loved to Faris’ bunker. The last people he needed to warn were his parents. He was steps away from the store, he saw their concerned faces within the doors burn away at the hands of a high-ballistic missile that landed directly atop their building. He felt the fires lick his body, yet threaten no more due to the immortality that convergence permitted. He saw American soldiers break into multiple different apartment buildings as he rushed back to Faris’ highrise — he heard the screams of women and children being dragged out of their homes. He felt his lungs burning from exertion and ash-inhalation as the town he grew up in was actively being flattened to nothing while he ran away from it all.

“Okarin-san!” Maho called out to Okabe, her resolve on seeing the scan all the way through beginning to crumble as tears began to leak out of his eyes. “Just give me the word and I’ll stop it! Don’t push yourself!” 

“No!” Okabe yelled. “I can do this!”

Now Okabe was within the abandoned train tunnels that led to Valkyrie’s home base. He remembered the feeling of his pistol as it fired to take a life he had a chance at saving. The fear of his victim was palpable, his own coldness was unforgivable. He remembered taking the helmet off the soldier only to see the face of a kid who couldn’t have been older than 18. The shame he felt for failing the young man took root within his heart, threatening to shatter it into multiple pieces like glass work. His taking of that boy’s life wasn’t an accident like Kurisu’s death was. It was premeditated. His body broke into a cold sweat, his breathing became ragged, his stomach began to churn. He wanted to give up. He didn’t want to see that boy’s face anymore.

“Get a hold of yourself, Okabe Rintaro,” he felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Fighting the visions of his memories, he was able to make out who that hand belonged to, their own determination shining in their violet eyes. His wife entered the room at some point and immediately began to comfort him. He had to see it through for her. ugh for her. 

He was met with one final rush of memories - his final night on the Beta Worldline on the cusp of Operation Skuld’s completion. He remembered the frantic stress he was in, the anxiety and worry he had for all of his lab members, the sorrow he was forced to contain when Luka and Kagari sacrificed themselves to buy Suzuha time to escape, and the paralyzing fear once the New Government converged on the lab and killed everyone who could have possibly defended him. Then, just as quickly as the memories emerged, they began to fade.

“Congratulations, Okarin-san,” Maho said, snapping Okabe out of his daze. “You’re officially the first subject to have their full emotional response pattern saved to Amadeus.”

Okabe felt Kurisu’s hand squeeze his shoulder, her smile brightening up the control room from his point of view. Maho, on the other hand, typed into the keyboard, looking at the data that was sent to Amadeus.

“The data stream looks healthy. No corruptions or bottlenecks during the conversion. We’ve been able to translate your emotions into tangibly changeable pieces of data.”

“That sounds like a massive scientific achievement,” Okabe sighed in relief, taking the neural interface off his head. 

“It’s huge, Okarin,” Kurisu said, rubbing his shoulder tenderly. “We’re closer than ever before to understanding what makes up the human soul.”

Okabe smiled, thankful that, for once in his life, his contributions gave back to the world rather than ran the risk of destroying it. He watched Maho continue to giddily type into the monitor before shutting down the window, revealing [Okabe] behind it. Upon his reveal, Kurisu froze, her attention squarely on the A.I. who looked sheepishly dejected.

Maho looked back-and-forth between the terminal screen and Kurisu, realization making itself apparent to her. “I’m sorry for letting this situation happen, [Rintaro], Kurisu. [Rintaro], just run the simulations, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She very quickly moved the mouse to shut down the avatar screen, but a voice stopped her. “It’s okay, Senpai . Keep Amadeus up.”

Kurisu’s voice was steady, her eyes still remaining on the terminal screen. Okabe didn’t know exactly what Kurisu was thinking as even her face was stoic in nature — not a hint of intensity or emotion to be found within it.

Maho sharply inhaled, redness invading her cheeks at the situation she found herself in. In response, she backed away from the terminal and began packing up her things from her desk.

“If that’s the case then I’ll see myself out,” she said. “Good luck with whatever this is.”

Maho made a move for the door.

“Maho,” Okabe’s voice made her freeze. “Thank you for your hard work.”

“Look at you using my given name,” Maho awkwardly laughed, never turning to face the pair she was about to leave behind. “Don’t thank me yet, Okarin-san. Our work’s only just begun.”

With that, Maho stepped through the door, leaving behind the tense atmosphere that she accidentally created. The silence was palpable, Kurisu’s eyes remained locked on Amadeus while her hand was still placed squarely on Okabe’s shoulder. All Okabe could do was look where his wife was looking, which was at the increasingly shrinking form of his A.I. self.

“Did you help Senpai with integrating the code?” Kurisu finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Y-Yeah…” [Okabe] responded, not knowing what else to say besides answering the question.

“...Thank you for your hard work,” Kurisu sounded sincere as she spoke, a tonal opposite from how she regarded Amadeus the last time she traded words with him. 

“It… It was nothing,” [Okabe] rubbed the back of his head. “All Maho had me do was revise my code and fix the desync issues that stemmed from it…”

Okabe looked up at Kurisu then back at the screen. It was like the scene unfolding before him was ripped straight out of some shoujo manga arc where the heroine and the main love interest were awkwardly trying to make up after the previous arc’s break-up. Kurisu caught his glances, and her face went red, suddenly becoming aware of the situation herself. She shook her head in an attempt to knock herself back into focus then looked at the terminal screen once more.

“Listen, [Rintaro],” the firmness in her voice returned. “I still have no idea why you or the Okarin whose memories you have hid so much about yourselves. I… I truly can’t understand how your fear for the worst possible outcome overrode the trust you could place in me… and I don’t think I want to. But you still have all the precious memories we made on this worldline, and I want this man to have those memories.”

Kurisu placed her other hand on Okabe’s shoulder as she spoke. “I have no doubt that, when we find the means to merge your memories, you both will cease to exist as individuals and come together to form a more complete Okarin. That’s a sacrifice I’m asking you to make. I want my husband to know why I love him so much, and I want to know that my husband loves me for everything we’ve done together and trusts me with all his heart. You’re capable of making that possible.”

Her eyes glanced down to the floor before she spoke her next words. “I don’t know if I can forgive you as you are… but maybe… once we merge your memories… I’ll be able to muster the strength to. And I’ll hopefully be comforted in the notion that you trust me as much as I trust you…”

Silence filled the room once more. Okabe dared not break it. However, Amadeus was the first to speak.

“I understand, Kurisu,” his eyes were filled with solemn grief. “It was a mistake that never should have happened. But the damage can’t be undone, and I must atone for it. I’ll do everything in my power to make the memory merger happen.”

“Good,” Kurisu allowed herself a smile before approaching the terminal keyboard. “We’ll let the system run the simulations, so rest easy for now.”

[Okabe] simply seemed to be admiring Kurisu before the screen he was on shut down. The only thing on the terminal now was the data tables which showed the memory engrams within the neural map that were being altered. Kurisu then turned back towards Okabe, her smile dropping along with her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I must seem like a rather unpleasant person right now, huh?”

Okabe was thrown for a loop at Kurisu’s apology. How he perceived his standing with her changed drastically every day and, now, he was completely unsure of how she felt about him. On the car ride to the university, there wasn’t a mention of what occurred over the weekend, so he thought she just wanted to find a way to not address the issue and maintain the distance that he felt between them. The apology was the first time she seemed to show a hint of wanting to talk about what was happening, so he decided to pursue the thread.

“I’m not so quick to think that of you, my lo—” Okabe was trying to speak before Kurisu put her hand up to stop him.

“Please, anything but that, Okarin,” her voice was a murmur as she addressed him. 

Okabe’s brow furrowed. “...Kurisu… what’s going on?”

Kurisu’s eyes darted back-and-forth across the floor before she looked up at him once more, her fists clenched. “A lot, frankly.”

He could see her shaking slightly. He wheeled his chair over to her and held her hand, which she allowed to happen. The closeness allowed her to open up more.

“I’ve been in my head about how I should feel about you,” she admitted. “For the past couple days, ever since I found out the things that were kept hidden from me, my mind’s been so restless.”

Her eyes softened. “I… I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I do love you – I love you as you are… but loving you like this just felt like a betrayal to the memories of you that I married…”

Okabe sat there, holding her hand as she spoke.

“I felt like I needed to atone for what we did on Friday… I couldn’t treat you as just my husband who lost his memories – you became someone else entirely in my head when you defended me against Amadeus… and it was only then that we did what we did. No matter how hard I tried to combine your past self and current self into one person, it was impossible. You’re not him… and that made me terrified… Haru was the one who made me see sense about the situation. I feel guilty that I needed my own child to point out just how stupid I’ve been lately.”

“...What were you terrified of?” Okabe tilted his head, his voice airy and soft so as to not antagonize Kurisu.

“That when we merge your memories, you’ll resent me,” tears began to work their way into Kurisu’s eyes. “Because I fell in love with this part of you while feeling betrayed by the part of you I came to know for two decades.”

Kurisu wiped her eyes with her sleeves, but new tears quickly formed, making her efforts pointless. “I thought that… if I distanced myself from you, I’d be able to make up for that and learn to love your past self again. But when I saw you suffering… when I saw just how badly scarred you were by that other world… I could only think about how much I wanted to protect you… to hold you and tell you that everything was going to be okay in the ways that you once did for me. Yet all I did was make things worse for you. I took you back to that world because I didn’t want to confront my feelings. I was horrible to you… all because I love this you more than the one I married… and I didn’t want to accept it.” 

So that’s what yesterday was about , Okabe thought. However, he let Kurisu continue to speak.

“I can’t get over what I did to you yesterday. I dug up your past trauma because of my own shame and I left . I deserve the resentment. I know you’re trying your best, yet there I was, tearing you down while you tried to build yourself up. I’m… a horrible person. I’m sorry it all happened… and I understand if you hate me for it…”

Despite her claim, Kurisu’s words of understanding were choked out. She didn’t want the man she loved to resent her, but she deserved it. The thought of him leaving her ran across the forefront of her mind, and this thought alone was enough to beckon her tears to flow out of her eyes.

Not able to bear silent witness to her suffering any longer, Okabe stood up and pulled her into a deep embrace, a move that she allowed. Now having something to lean on, Kurisu placed her full weight into Okabe and cried freely into him. Kurisu felt so small in Okabe’s embrace, so small that Okabe felt that if he were to loosen his grip in any way, she’d fall right through his arms and to the floor. He held on tight while she cried and spoke in a comforting whisper.

“There’ll be no part of me that will ever resent you, my dear Assistant,” he said. “Don't blame yourself for being human.”

“But…” Kurisu sobbed into Okabe’s chest, threatening to stain his shirt. “You didn’t deserve any of it. You deserved the world… and I pushed you back into Hell…”

Okabe held her tighter, his voice gentle yet firm. “I think I need a reminder, Assistant. Who was it that helped me weather the storm of the neural mapping just now? I seem to remember a woman with shoulder-length chestnut hair that dragged me out of Hell. So long as you didn’t mean to purposefully dig up my memories from that worldline, which I believe you didn’t, there’s nothing for you to atone for. You’ve already done more than enough to make up for it all.”

He kissed the top of her head before continuing to speak. “ You did nothing wrong, your love for me as I am is not wrong, and you are most definitely not a horrible person. You’re someone in mourning, and I’m understanding of that. I will never blame you for how you react — though do expect consequences for running afoul of Hououin Kyouma for two days straight.”

Okabe wanted to keep it light. The mood was beginning to get too heavy for him and he didn’t want to be sucked in by it.

He heard a soft giggle come from Kurisu in between sobs, allowing him to smile at the success of his attempt at levity. She looked up at him from her small space in his arms, tears still flowing out of her eyes. Her lips were trembling as if they were pleading for a reason to keep their smile. “And what consequences am I supposed to expect?”

Okabe let out a short, soft cackle and allowed his voice to drop an octave. “That, my dear Assistant, is privileged information that will only reveal itself when the time comes. For now, tremble in fear as those consequences may come at any time.”

Kurisu’s lips found their reason to smile. The trembling nearly ceased entirely, but there was still a little bit there that Okabe could catch as they formed the crescent that he sought from the moment she started crying.

“You’re such a dork,” she sniffled. “You know that?”

“Must be a rough life for you to admit you’re in love with a dork,” he smirked back at her.

“I’m inclined to disagree,” Kurisu spoke with conviction, pulling Okabe down by the lapels of his lab coat and letting her lips connect with his. 

Briefly stunned by her first proper display of affection since Friday, Okabe quickly recovered his wits and cupped her face with his hands. After a few seconds he wished could turn to minutes, their lips parted and they looked directly into each other’s eyes. He let his consciousness swim in the violet pools of her irises, finding all the comfort he could hope to find. For the first time since arriving on the worldline, he finally felt like he could say the one thing he always wanted to say since his last day on the Alpha Worldline. The one phrase that beat any pet name he may have had the urge to call her.

“I love you, Kurisu.”

Kurisu smiled, her face looking softer than ever before. She tilted her head in his hands as she let her focus on his eyes flit back and forth.

“I love you , Okarin.”

Okabe felt a warmness pierce the very depths of his heart as Kurisu reciprocated his love, not just for Rintaro Okabe as a whole, but for the person he was at that very moment. Ever since he arrived, Okabe felt like he didn’t deserve to be a part of the worldline. However, here, in this very moment, the love of his life gave him every reason to believe the contrary. He came here for a reason – to protect the smile that Kurisu currently blessed him with – and he was going to see that through to the very end.

He leaned down once more to let his lips connect with hers. It was the gentlest touch that lit up every one of his synapses. This feeling was much different than when she kissed him on Friday, more softness than hunger, more care than desire. It was a feeling he wouldn’t trade for the world. However, this feeling kept the couple from hearing the beep of the door.

“I forgot my lun–” Maho walked in as soon as the door opened, catching sight of the couple mid kiss. Her cheeks, along with Okabe and Kurisu, immediately turned bright red and the couple let go of each other. “Do you seriously have to do that here of all places?! Get out, go home, and get a room!”

Maho humphed as she stomped through Okabe and Kurisu, opened the fridge which contained her lunch container, and promptly moved to stomp back out.

“Just how often are you going to forget your things, Little Girl?” Okabe decided to tease Maho, finding more humor than embarrassment from the situation. “Don’t tell me you were secretly hoping to stumble across this kind of scene!”

“As if!” Maho snapped, shoving Okabe out of the way to get to the door. She then turned and pointed threateningly at him. “You better watch yourself, Okarin-san. Don’t forget that I’m your boss.”

With those words, she stomped out of the room.

Okabe couldn’t help laughing at her exit. Kurisu also let a couple giggles escape, though the redness of her face showed that she was still a bit embarrassed for being caught by her Senpai.

Their objective done for the day, and now having the much-needed answers to the questions that Okabe had over the weekend, it only made sense to enjoy the rest of the Monday.

He extended his hand out to her. “Shall we?” 

She smiled, taking his hand in hers. “We shall.”

With everything settled, they strode out of the Control Room, out of the basement, and towards their car. Not once did either of them let go, fearing that if they did, they’d lose the other – an irrational fear, but a fear that was there nonetheless. For the first time since arriving on the worldline, Rintaro Okabe now had every reason to feel like he belonged.

Chapter Text

Date: January 17, 2017 11:02:31AM JST

Divergence 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

Kurisu Makise clutched on to the overcoat sleeves of the man she so desperately hated at the current moment. The intermittent sound of shrill screams made her flinch each time she heard them - the fear of everyone around her felt palpable. She was certain that everyone had their hearts in their throats much like she did.

“Don’t tell me you’re deathly afraid of rollercoasters, Christina,” the man she continued to despise teased. “Wasn’t it your idea to get in this line?”

There were many things that were legitimately Kurisu’s idea: celebrating the New Year in Japan along with the rest of the lab; booking a hotel in Osaka for everyone using her connections from the Neuroscience Institute; coming to Multiversal Studios during a time when many people would consider it too cold to be a theme park. She would happily take credit for all of those things. She would never take credit for her one mistake of trying to call Okabe’s bluff.

Kurisu rolled her eyes, a deep exhale escaping her lips. “Two hours in this line, and you’re just now asking me this?”

They were in line for The Flying Dinosaur: a ride that lifts the passenger off the floor, rotates them so that their bodies are parallel to the ground, and launches them at high speeds around a designated corner of the park for everyone to see. The initial intent was to go on the Triassic Park ride that was right next door - a much more palatable experience for everyone - but Okabe just had to go and open his mouth about how the people screaming were wimps with no backbone. She could sense the dread in his voice - at least she thought - so she called his bluff. Never in her head did she think he’d actually take her up on it!

“There was no reason to ask earlier! You exuded such confidence when you challenged me.” Okabe smirked, his smile more devious than ever. “Only now, as the moment of reckoning approaches, does the truth reveal itself.”

“Oh, please,” Kurisu scoffed. “We’ve been inching forward for ages. You’d think we’d have run out of things to talk about, but no. Now, when there’s no turning back, is when you bring this up?”

Okabe grinned. “I was merely waiting for the most opportune moment to observe the cracks in your facade, Assistant.”

“Oh, shut up.”

And so, it was just the two of them in line. Yuki did not feel well enough for the ride and Daru jumped at the opportunity to take care of her rather than join the two. Luka, Faris, and Mayuri very rightfully backed out of participating, and Moeka wordlessly disappeared before Okabe began attempting to recruit the other lab members.

More screams interrupted Kurisu’s train of thought. The couple was now in the final section of the line that formed right after dropping off their loose items in the ride-provided lockers. The act of locking away their phones and bags felt like some kind of ominous ritual, as if relinquishing all earthly possessions before their imminent demise. They were so close, pushing Kurisu’s anxiety into overdrive. But she wouldn’t back down to this guy.

“It was my idea,” she finally answered Okabe’s initial question. “It’s still possible for that to happen in spite of my fear of things like this.”

Truth be told, Kurisu had been stewing in her own anxiety for most of the wait. The further along they got, the harder it became to pretend she wasn’t dreading every step closer to The Flying Dinosaur’s towering frame. They had passed by the ride’s entrance hours ago, craning their necks to watch as people were hoisted off the ground, flipped onto their stomachs, and sent hurtling through the sky like unfortunate prey caught in a pterosaur’s claws. She had spent much of that time internally panicking, subtly observing every ride-goer who emerged, hoping for some assurance that they weren’t walking straight into their doom.

Unfortunately, she found none. There were thrill-seekers, yes, but there were also those who staggered off the ride looking like they had just seen their life flash before their eyes. It wasn’t encouraging.

She shot a glance toward Okabe. He was trying far too hard to maintain his usual air of theatrical arrogance, but she knew better. She caught the way his eyes lingered just a little too long on the coaster’s track above them. The way he subtly tensed with each new round of screams. The way his fingers twitched at his sides.

“Well if you’re so afraid,” Okabe was suspiciously quick with a new suggestion after another batch of ride-goers soared overhead. “We can just get our things and leave the line. I wouldn’t want my Assistant to pee herself on the ride.”

“You’re not slithering out of this, coward,” Kurisu’s grip tugged Okabe back towards her as he attempted to make a move for the lockers. “The only way we get out of this line is if you admit that you’re scared too.”

“As if!” Okabe scoffed, yanking his arm out of Kurisu’s grasp and placing his hands squarely on his hips. “Things like this are a trifle compared to the usual torture-training I must endure to resist The Organization.”

Kurisu let out a sigh so exaggerated that it bordered on theatrical, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Right. The Organization. How could I forget? They must be shaking in their boots at the thought of you bravely facing a rollercoaster meant for teenagers."

“What are you talking about, Christina?" Okabe raised an eyebrow at Kurisu. “Are you telling me The Organization is here and they’re watching us?”

Okabe crouched down ever so slightly, scanning the crowd as if he were assessing it for threats.

This is what I get for trying to get on his level, Kurisu thought.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” she muttered under her breath.

Okabe, now conveniently facing away from her, exhaled heavily. “Neither can I.”

Kurisu blinked. “What?”

He stiffened. “Nothing! I merely meant that I am eager to see how my Assistant handles such a high-stakes trial!”

Before she could respond, another set of screams sliced through the air as another batch of riders soared overhead, their terror echoing through their section of the park. Kurisu felt her stomach twist into a thousand knots. She glanced at Okabe just in time to catch a fleeting moment of unease in his expression—his bravado slipping for the briefest of seconds before he plastered on an arrogant smirk. She narrowed her eyes. Naturally, her gaze slowly shifted downwards as she felt a mini earthquake from beneath her.

"You're shaking," she observed flatly.

"Preposterous!" Okabe scoffed, though the way he adjusted his stance, as if willing his knees to stop trembling, did not go unnoticed.

The line inched forward again, bringing them to the base of the steps that led to the boarding platform. Kurisu's heart rate doubled. Riders from the previous cycle were stepping off the ride just across from the couple, their legs unsteady, some with adrenaline-fueled smiles plastered on their faces, others with shell shocked empty gazes. A couple staggered toward the lockers, the boyfriend muttering something about checking the ride off their checklist and never having to do it again. This admission was enough to break Kurisu’s spirit. 

Kurisu swallowed hard and turned back to Okabe, trying her best to resist admitting defeat. However, a rare sight of her boyfriend met her instead. He was staring at the tracks that ran above them, letting his eyes scan their length absentmindedly. His normally animated face was oddly still. It wasn’t confidence. It wasn’t bravado. It was something else entirely.

She nudged his arm. "Hey."

He blinked and turned toward her, and for the first time since they got in line, his expression was - albeit very briefly - completely unguarded. It wasn’t arrogance, or giddiness, or any type that could define the haughtiness that was Hououin Kyouma. She could very briefly see Rintaro Okabe at his most vulnerable - a sight that she very rarely got to see for herself despite being his partner for nearly six years. Maybe she could take advantage of it to get out of the line.

"You don't have to pretend," she said softly.

For a second, he looked like he was going to argue. He opened his mouth, but then shut it again, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he swallowed. "Pretend about what? You say the most odd things sometimes, Assistant."

She stepped in front of him, one step above him, allowing her to be tall enough to look straight into his eyes. She lowered her voice. "You do this thing where you act like nothing gets to you, but you’re gripping the railing like it owes you money."

Okabe’s left hand was white-knuckling the stair railing. Once Kurisu made him aware of his unconscious action, he immediately released the railing and had his hand dive into his coat pocket. 

"Lies and slander!" he declared, but the way she could see him flex his fingers from within his pocket betrayed him. 

He exhaled heavily and looked away. "Fine. Maybe... maybe I underestimated this particular ‘test of courage.’"

Kurisu smirked, some of her own fear dissipating at his near-confession. However, it wasn’t enough. She wanted him to admit it, to be vulnerable with her. "You mean you’re scared?"

He shot her a look of pure indignation. "Fear is an irrational construct designed to control the minds of lesser men. I am merely... aware of the risks."

“Just say it, Okarin.”

“There is nothing to say! My duty as a mad scientist compels me to face all trials without hesitation! If you’re afraid, however, I will graciously allow you to flee.”

She groaned. “Oh, for the love of - so you’re only staying because I won’t leave, aren’t you?”

"Of course! If I back out, how would I be a man who can protect you? How would I be a man who could ensure your survival? Nay, there is absolutely no point to my backing out because my reputation and my dignity depend on it! If you back out on the other hand, I would have no other choice but to accompany you away from the dangers of this ride.”

She rolled her eyes again, but this time, she couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at her lips. She couldn’t help feeling a little giddy whenever Okabe got on his soapbox about protecting her - it was oddly comforting albeit nonsensical. 

"Right. Because a flying roller coaster is obviously the most dangerous thing we've ever faced. You just don’t want to be the first to wimp out."

Okabe stiffened just slightly, his smirk faltering. His gaze flickered away for a moment, grave and almost absent, before returning to her with the same usual spark.

Kurisu tilted her head. She wasn’t going to let Okabe get away with not explaining his sudden changes in demeanor. "What?"

Okabe hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nothing. Just - if this is the worst danger we have to face together, then maybe I should be grateful."

Her brow furrowed. Did she just talk him into tripling down? "Okarin—"

"The world is at stake! I must not fail in such a pathetic manner," he interjected suddenly, shifting back into his grandiose persona. "I have evaded death countless times before, this flying deathtrap will have the same effect - I will not back down."

Kurisu sighed. "You're being weirdly dramatic, even for you."

"Am I?" He glanced toward the lockers where people were retrieving their things, his voice lowering. "There were... other times… times where you…"

He trailed off, but Kurisu caught a whiff of what she sought - he wasn’t actively attempting to hide his true self from her for once! She felt her breath hitch slightly as she saw his internal battle with whether or not he should speak more to how he felt.

Before she could beckon him to continue, a gust of wind howled through the waiting area, carrying with it another round of screams from above. Okabe inhaled sharply, his fingers twitching at his sides. Kurisu mirrored his actions, now realizing the error in her ways. She needed to find a way to get them out of this line - without admitting defeat of course.

She seized the moment. At this point, maybe she could help him save his pride - she was satisfied with how the conversation played out. Kurisu’s voice softened to a whisper as she let her lips rest next to his ear. “You know, we could still get out of here. No shame in admitting we’re both terrified.”

Okabe straightened immediately. "What?! Nonsense! I am fearless and I am not a liar!"

Just back out, damn it! We’re halfway up the stairs already!

She scoffed, trying for another route of escape. "So, you’d rather subject me to the horrors of The Flying Dinosaur instead of just admitting the truth? Some protector you are."

Okabe opened his mouth, closed it, then furrowed his brows. She could see the gears turning in his head. He was weighing his options, considering just how much of his pride he’d have to sacrifice to get out of this. She was so close to saving her own life.

And then -

The line moved forward again, dragging them up the steps, and onto the boarding platform. They were next. In a battle that only guaranteed Mutually Assured Destruction, Kurisu felt the full weight of her initial folly make the suspended platform tremble. Or maybe it was just the wind.

She so desperately wanted to pin all of the blame on Okabe - to feel vindicated in the act of staring daggers into his soul. However, she shouldered the blame, a blame she wouldn’t admit. 

“Come, A-Assistant,” Okabe’s voice cracked as he took Kurisu’s hand in his. “Our trial of fire awaits us.”

If only the firmness in his stubbornness matched the firmness in his voice. Perhaps then they could have avoided this situation they found themselves trapped in.

Kurisu felt her palms dampen as she held Okabe’s hand on the approach to the loading area. She could not ascertain, however, who the sweat belonged to. The ride operators gestured for them to step forward, guiding them toward the lane that would eventually lead to their seats. As they moved to sit, Okabe hesitated just for a fraction of a second before pulling down his restraint. Kurisu did the same, her hands slightly unsteady as she secured herself into place.

The floor beneath them lowered, leaving them suspended in the air. Then, their heads shifted forward as the coaster forced them into the horizontal position that was plastered all over the screens that explained the ride’s operation. Slowly, surely, the ride began to move. Slowly, surely, more and more of the park became exposed to Kurisu’s vision. Now, with the closest part of the ground being well below them, Kurisu became increasingly aware of the gravity that pulled her chest down onto the shoulder bars. She felt a fresh wave of anxiety wash over her as the fear of the restraint popping open and her plummeting to her death became much more real in her mind.

They began the tantalizing crawl to the peak of the ride’s drop. This teasing, slow ascent would be the only part of the ride where they wouldn’t be going fast. Kurisu’s heart was in her throat and a pit developed in her stomach. She swore she caught a brief glimpse of the lab who were trying to see if they could find them among the ride goers in the air. Then, the climb stopped, and they hung at the precipice of the ride’s height. Time slowed to a standstill as Kurisu awaited the drop. 

Okabe turned his head as best he could in the restraints — he was uncharacteristically silent for the whole ascent. "Kurisu?" He finally choked out.

She did her best to look at Okabe, the surprise at the lack of a nickname knocking her out of her stupor. "Yeah?"

He hesitated before speaking. "...If we die here today, know that it was an honor facing our demise together."

Kurisu looked away in frustration and shut her eyes. She held her head tightly against her seat as she yelled. "That’s not something I want to hear on this ride, idiot!"

Before any more words were exchanged, Kurisu heard one final mechanism click - the release.

And then, they were flying. She didn’t know who of the two of them screamed the loudest on the ride.

Date: November 21, 2036 5:47:23PM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

“Reina! Haru! Dinner’s ready!” Kurisu Okabe’s voice carried effortlessly down the hallway, filled with the inherent authority she had developed over the years.

It took more getting used to than Rintaro Okabe - her loving husband, who had just finished plating the food she cooked - had ever expected. The Kurisu he had known was always sharp and strong-willed, but she had been a teenage girl, still finding her place in the world despite her genius intellect. Now, as a fully grown and well-established woman, her confidence extended far beyond her intelligence. She could command a room of scientists at the Institute, their children, and even her own husband without even trying. Yet, this observation never stopped him from attempting to one-up her.

“Come, my minions!” he declared, adding dramatic flair to his voice. “Your continued dastardly growth depends upon this prepared feast!”

Kurisu smirked, shaking her head as she gave the chicken in the wok a final stir. “It’s like we’re dating all over again.”

There was a sweetness in her voice, but the weight of her words was lost on Okabe. Now, a full week after arriving in Steins Gate, the foreignness of this world pressed down on him more and more.

Despite the engram therapy’s success in erasing the worst effects of his traumatic memories, it had done nothing to alleviate the sense that he was an actor, stuck reading lines in a life that wasn’t entirely his own. Maho had already pointed out the knowledge gap separating him from his past self, and now Kurisu was making him aware of the disparity in how he perceived their relationship. Rintaro Okabe may have been freed from his trauma, but nothing could relieve him of the steady onslaught of alienation. All he could do was endure it until he could merge his memories with Amadeus.

It took a moment, but eventually, Reina and Haruki emerged from the hallway, leaving it ambiguous whose call had summoned them. Okabe flashed a triumphant grin at Kurisu, masking his own insecurities. “See? The call of Hououin Kyouma works wonders.”

Kurisu rolled her eyes but returned the banter with a saccharine smile. “What would I ever do without you, darling? Who else would take all the credit for my work?”

As she passed him, she playfully squeezed his cheek before beckoning him to sit with the kids. Once again, Okabe found his expectations turned upside down. Gone was the girl whose buttons he could easily push. In her place stood a woman who had mastered the art of handling his antics, effortlessly exposing just how out of his depth he truly was.

“That took longer than usual, Mama,” Reina noted as she settled into the kotatsu at the center of the living room. “Was Papa too busy monologuing?”

Ever since that morning when Okabe walked her to school — the same day he scanned his memories — Reina had become far more familiar with him. Quick-witted and precise in her teasing, she was his child through and through. However, his offspring whom he shared his blood with, could still be handled.

“Nonsense, Kiyoko,” Okabe feigned offense as he sat beside Kurisu, facing the children. “The most vital role of the great and insane mad scientist Hououin Kyouma is that of a delegation mastermind!”

Haruki, never missing a beat, shot back, “Doesn’t delegation require actually knowing what you’re delegating? Because the fried rice you made for us suggests that particular requirement wasn’t met.”

Another stab — one that hurt more than it should have.

Okabe clutched his chest with an exaggerated gasp, mimicking the act of being struck. “Et tu, Masamune?”

“Enough teasing, you two.” Kurisu’s cheerful voice cut through the conversation, sparing Okabe from further verbal wounds. “Let’s eat so we can get the living room ready for the Hashidas.”

With a quick “Thank you for the food,” the four of them began their meal.

The Hashidas were arriving soon. According to Kurisu, ever since the Okabes moved into their much-more spacious apartment in 2026, it had become a tradition for them to host Thanksgiving for the rest of the lab—an idea spearheaded by Kurisu herself, given her American roots. In the early years, the lab members had only stayed for a couple of days, arriving early on Thanksgiving morning and leaving by Saturday evening. Now, everyone was eager to set aside a full ten days — likely once they discovered that Kurisu was more than capable of cooking an entire buffet without poisoning anyone.

The Hashidas were always the first to arrive, taking full advantage of the Okabes’ hospitality. Suzuha typically stayed with Reina in her room, while Daru and Yuki occupied a transformed section of the living room. As for the other lab members, Faris usually took care of their accommodations, ensuring they only had to worry about airfare and personal expenses while in town.

It was a wonderful tradition, Okabe thought. But, like everything else in Steins Gate, it was one he had no memory of.

With each passing day, every reminder of just how alien he was in this world weighed heavier. The only solace was knowing that, soon, he would reclaim the time he had lost. Thanks to the hard work of both Maho and Kurisu — and the engram therapy’s foundational code — the day was approaching fast. According to them and his Amadeus self, the method was foolproof. It would use a similar principle as the Time-Leap Machine, where all of his memories would be fed to him at once. However, instead of completely overwriting his memories, it would feed him the ones he didn’t have. All that was left now was to wait for that moment.

Kurisu had insisted they wait until after the Hashidas’ visit. She wanted this version of him with the war-afflicted memories his head contained to see his best friend in a world of peace.

Okabe understood the sentiment. What he didn’t appreciate was the necessity of keeping his missing memories a secret. It had been his idea, sure, but it felt hypocritical to preach openness with his loved ones while hiding something so crucial. Kurisu also made her disapproval known, but ultimately conceded - after all, his current state wouldn’t last long enough to be a concern for anyone else.

And yet, that didn’t make living in this unfamiliar world any easier. He thought he could bear it for far longer than this. However, each reference of how he was different, each reminder of something he did that he couldn’t recall, and each brief flash of recognition from his family when they realized that they were speaking to someone who hadn’t shared their joys in life, was beginning to be far too much. Kurisu did her best to help him through these feelings, but there was only so much that she could do to get him acquainted with the world.

He felt Kurisu’s elbow lightly nudge his side. He caught a brief glance of concern from her before she turned her attention to the table. “I haven’t prepared anything special for our tenth anniversary, no. But who knows? Maybe Uncle Daru and Aunt Yuki, or even Aunt Mayuri have something special planned.”

Had he missed a part of the conversation?

He did his best to remain undeterred and pick up where the conversation left off - giving some vague reply that he hoped passed for attentive. The table filled with chatter again, and Okabe forced himself to engage, to smile, to ham it up as Hououin Kyouma when appropriate. But it was all wearing thin.

As the meal began to wrap, Okabe excused himself claiming that the Organization had worked its nerve agent into his stomach via Kurisu’s savory meal. Kurisu gave him a knowing look but said nothing. Once the bedroom door closed behind him, Okabe found his seat at the foot of the bed, sliding down to the floor with his head in his hands.

It was too much.

The voices, the warmth, the joy. These were all reminders of a life he just couldn’t fathom living after the time he spent adrift in the Beta Worldline.

He let the silence settle around him. The dim evening light filtering through the curtains painted the room in soft amber, wrapping everything in a deceptive calm. His breath came in short, uneven bursts, as if his lungs weren’t sure whether they were supposed to be full or empty. His gaze drifted around the bedroom, taking in the framed photos that he had not noticed before, the mismatched throw pillows atop the navy bed, the stack of research textbooks still cluttering one corner of the room. It was lived in. Warm. Real.

And yet, it felt like a museum exhibit.

Each item screamed familiarity, yet none stirred memory. Every detail was alien in its intimacy.

His eyes landed on a picture frame atop one of the cubbies - a candid snapshot of the family, Kurisu holding a much younger Reina and him holding a Haruki at a beach somewhere. His hair was longer. Kurisu was laughing. Reina's mouth was smeared with ice cream, and Haruki was desperately trying to edgily cover his eyes with his hair. He stared at it until the edges blurred.

He clenched his fists. He wanted to remember. He wanted in on this life. He wanted to reap the reward of his obsessive effort to protect the lives of his loved ones. Why was his reward alienation? Why did he have to nod along and smile like everything was fine? Why did he force himself upon this worldline? His memories of the Beta Worldline - once akin to lightning strikes, immobilizing and damaging him - now settled in his head like a dense fog. He may no longer be affected by their traumatic nature, but he still found himself swimming in them. That world was all he knew.

A soft knock finally broke his spiraling thoughts.

“Hey,” Kurisu said from the other side, her voice low. “I told the kids to clean up the kotatsu area for the Hashidas. Mind if I come in?”

He hesitated. Swallowed. “It’s open.”

She entered slowly, her eyes immediately finding him on the floor. Without a word, she joined him, her knees brushing his.

“You didn’t miss anything,” she said, after a beat. “It was just some more anniversary talk. The kids are really excited about the possibility of doing something special with everyone.”

“I didn’t even know we’d made it to ten years,” he muttered bitterly. “Or that we even had these traditions.”

“I know.”

She reached for his hand, her touch firm and warm.

“It’s okay to feel like this,” she said softly. “Frankly, I’m surprised it took this long for you to break down. You fought so hard to get here, and now you’re being asked to adapt to a world that never knew your pain. But you belong here, Okarin. You’ve always belonged here.”

He shook his head. “Kurisu… do you really believe that?”

She nodded without hesitation. “Of course I do.”

“But what if the man you love isn’t the one sitting in front of you?”

Kurisu tilted her head slightly. “That’s a hypothetical that requires no exploration because the basis upon which it is founded upon is frankly untrue. I love my husband, and you are that man.”

He let air escape from his nostrils. “You always know what to say.”

“I try,” she smiled, resting her chin on her knee. “You’re not some impostor, Okarin. You’re the version of yourself who survived. That’s not nothing.”

“I’m scared,” he admitted. “I’m terrified that even after the merge, I still won’t feel whole. That this version of me will disappear completely. Or worse, I’ll have both sets of memories and not know which one to trust.”

There was a pause, and Kurisu gave a short laugh under her breath. “You know… this reminds me of the time that we went to Multiversal Studios and rode on that horrible flying dinosaur coaster.”

Okabe blinked. “The theme park?”

She tilted her head, a fond smile touching her lips. “Yeah. The theme park. We waited in line for two hours in the cold. I was terrified out of my mind. But I didn’t want to admit it. I was so convinced you were more scared than I was, and I thought if I could just get you to admit it, we’d both get out of it alive.”

He gave her a puzzled look. “I know I gave you credit for finding the right thing to say, but I’m unsure where you’re going with this. This isn’t something I can reminisce on with you.”

“I know,” she said gently. “I promise that I’m going somewhere with this. That moment… it stuck with me. Because I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t say I was scared until it was too late. And you? You were pretending the whole time just so you wouldn’t be seen as the very same wimp you accused all the ridegoers of being.”

Okabe’s throat tightened. “Sounds like something I would do.”

“It was,” Kurisu said. “But what amazes me is that now? You just say it. You say you’re scared and you let me in. That takes more strength than anything you did on that ride - and anything you did on the lead-up of your Reading Steiner last week.”

She grasped his chin with her forefinger and thumb and turned his face towards her.

“The merger will work. There is no place for negativity here, especially when your very loving wife is one of the minds behind the machine. And regardless, you won’t go through it alone. I’ll be there. Senpai will be there. Everyone will be there. You’ve never truly been alone, even when you thought you were.”

His voice dropped to a whisper. “Then why do I still feel so far away?”

“Because your heart hasn’t caught up to your body yet,” she said gently, planting a peck on his lips. “You’ve been carrying grief for so long, it’s going to take time to believe in peace again.”

He closed his eyes, letting her presence anchor him as he placed his forehead against hers. “I just want to be the man you remember.”

“You already are,” she whispered. “Just with a few more scars. And honestly? I love that man just as much.”

She pulled back slightly and gave him a long look. “This version of you… he’s honest. Open. Willing to say what he’s feeling. And yeah, maybe it’s because you’ve been through hell to get here, but I think that’s kind of beautiful in its own way. You’re not pretending anymore.”

Okabe managed a faint smile. “And yet, you’re still putting up with me.”

“‘Putting up with’ is putting it lightly,” she teased. “You’ve given me a whole existential crisis just because of my love for you, and now here. You owe me.”

“I’ll add it to my ever-growing list of cosmic debts,” he said, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

The ringing doorbell interrupted them before they could speak any further. The Hashidas no-doubt.

Kurisu gave his hand a final squeeze and stood. “Come on. They’re here.”

He looked up at her, hesitant, but she smiled.

“You don’t have to be ready. Just be here.”

He rose slowly, taking her hand. Not yet ready. But not alone, either.

They stepped into the hallway just as Reina and Haruki rushed to the door. Kurisu made it to the entryway first and opened it, revealing Daru, Yuki, and Suzuha—bundled in coats, carrying bags, and smiling warmly.

Suzuha grinned wide. “Big Sis Suzu is officially back in America!”

Yuki stepped in and waved, her voice gentle. “Hello, everyone. Thank you for having us.”

And Daru, older, broader, but unmistakably the same, lifted a hand from the impossibly large luggage bags he was carrying into a lazy salute, “Operation: Stuff Our Faces with American Food has commenced!”

Okabe stared at them. His vision blurred slightly.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he was seeing his best friend and his family in a world of peace. Alive. Smiling ever-so-gleefully.

His voice caught in his throat. Kurisu squeezed his hand tighter.

“I’m certain my Twin Star Scientists will review that operation name and return with a much better one,” he finally said, donning his persona once more. “Welcome once more to America, My Favorite Right Arm.”

Chapter Text

Date: August 13, 2025 4:42:22PM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

“Damn it all!”

Kurisu Okabe was still reaching for her access card when her husband’s full-throated curse rang out from inside the Amadeus Control Room, followed by a loud, echoing thud. The room was supposed to be soundproof—yet she heard everything with perfect clarity. Without hesitation, she swiped her card and entered, the door hissing open on her urgency.

The scene before her made her draw in her breath. Papers were strewn all over the room. The chair at Okabe’s desk—the one closest to the door—had been completely upended and hurled well clear from it. Okabe stood in the middle of the wreckage, his figure stiff, breath ragged, hair disheveled, chest heaving with the intensity of his outburst, his knuckles white as they clenched the sides of the Amadeus terminal. On the display, a forlorn [Okabe].

The control room was normally sterile and orderly—crisp white walls lined with embedded interface panels, recessed ceiling lights casting a clean, neutral glow, and a faint ever-present hum of electricity. But now, it looked as though it had been struck by a localized hurricane. Not just papers and furniture, but the little details: a half-finished cup of coffee on the floor, tipped and staining a stack of printed logs; an unplugged memory drive dangling off the terminal by its frayed cord; a bent neural schematic that had once been pinned neatly against the far wall now hung lopsided and torn at the edge. Amadeus' central console blinked once before going dark, its shutdown complete, leaving the room eerily dim in its absence.

“Okarin?” Kurisu’s voice came out sharp and concerned, cutting through the silence that fell heavily upon the room after her entrance.

Okabe froze, startled by her sudden appearance. His eyes widened briefly before he quickly composed himself, drawing in a slow, deliberate breath and releasing his grip on the terminal.

“Ah, Assistant,” he said quietly, trying to smooth over the raw edges of his voice, “You’re here early.”

Kurisu stepped forward slowly, her eyes scanning the chaos before landing back on him. Her voice softened, careful but probing. “What happened?”

Kurisu’s eyes had darted instinctively toward the whiteboard on the far side of the room, her heart sinking as she recognized the frantic scribbles and violently crossed-out equations. She thought he had mostly given up when they last discussed it, but it became clear now that he hadn’t. Memories from just weeks earlier, before her birthday, resurfaced vividly - Okabe’s weary yet determined expression, his cryptic discussions about "Reading Steiner safeguards," and his stubborn avoidance whenever she questioned him.

“Just a small setback,” Okabe answered, waving a hand dismissively as he began gathering the scattered papers from the floor. His movements were quick, almost frantic, as though hiding the evidence of his turmoil would erase its existence entirely.

She stepped closer, squinting at the scrawl of equations. Her breath quickened slightly, and she drew her arms tighter around herself as the implications struck her. She noticed familiar terms like destructive interference and memory pathways, etched hastily among the chaos. A subtle chill ran down her spine—not just from the air in the control room, but from the understanding beginning to settle in. Yet again, she was left piecing together fragments of a puzzle Okabe refused to openly share. Why was he so singularly obsessed with giving Amadeus the ability to forget? Yes, if Amadeus could truly engage in the act of forgetting, the fact that the AI could behave more like a human would be novel. But it wasn't something to lose sleep over. Why push this hard?

What did this have to do with Reading Steiner?

Kurisu knelt beside him, gently yet firmly resting her hand on his shoulder, halting his frantic motion to pick up the strewn papers. “You're not fooling me. Last month you were already talking about ‘Reading Steiner safeguards.’ I let it go then. I’m not letting it go now. I’m going to ask you again: what are you trying to safeguard against?”

He stiffened beneath her touch, the muscles of his shoulders tensing before slowly softening. His gaze stayed fixed stubbornly downward. “It's… complicated. Too many variables. Not enough clarity. I’ve made mistakes.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not an answer. You’ve always been obsessed with this experiment ever since the new year, but this — this is different. You're spiraling, Okarin. Why?”

Okabe sighed, finally meeting her gaze, eyes shadowed by exhaustion and guarded emotions. "Please trust me, my love. It's just… just something I have to figure out myself."

“You always say that,” she whispered, hurt now evident in her tone. "But you never explain. It’s not just a personal endeavor, is it? There’s something deeper, something about your past and how your Reading Steiner works that has you scared. Does this have anything to do with the Alpha Worldline?

He visibly flinched, as though her words pierced deeper wounds. His voice came quietly, barely audible. “There are some truths about my Reading Steiner that are better left hidden. Not because you aren't strong enough to bear them, but because they're mine alone to carry. I could never wish this power on anyone.”

“You’re not alone anymore, Okarin. We promised we'd face things together,” she reminded him gently yet firmly. “Why can't you trust me with this?”

Okabe looked up at Kurisu, his eyes searching for something within hers. Finally, after a long stare down, he sighed and slumped his shoulders.

“When I first told you that Reading Steiner allowed me to retain memories across worldlines, I was only telling you half of the truth,” he admitted. “Reading Steiner isn't just about retaining memories from other worldlines. Every time I shift, every memory I retain from the previous worldline… replaces every memory I should have of the current worldline. I don't just remember alternate realities - I forget the past of the reality I jump into.”

Kurisu stared, the revelation slowly sinking in, her heart aching at the weight of his admission. "You could lose your memories? Of us? Of our life?"

How could I not realize that? I should have assumed that being able to retain memories of alternate realities came at a cost!

He nodded slightly, eyes filled with regret. "Every shift cost me something, my dear Assistant. Every jump meant sacrificing pieces of the life I was jumping into."

He paused, his voice lowering. "That’s why I’m trying to replicate it artificially - to understand it better in the end. It truly is just a personal endeavor to understand my power."

“Do you run the risk of having another version of you shift into this worldline? Is that why you’re so frantic about this?” Kurisu asked a pointed question, searching for the truth within Okabe’s soul.

He hesitated. Something flickered in his eyes.

“No,” he said after the brief hesitation, smoother than she thought he would.

Kurisu caught the shift in his tone. A false note in an otherwise sincere melody. But before she could press further, his posture straightened and he rose, inadvertently knocking her off of him.

“Besides,” he continued with a sudden, overly casual shrug. “If another version of me did show up, I’m sure he’d immediately notice that his so-called Assistant never refilled the emergency coffee reserve.”

Kurisu blinked, caught off guard by the sudden tonal shift. “What?”

“Tragic, isn’t it?” Okabe said with theatrical sorrow, gesturing broadly to an empty thermos beside the console. “He would be trying to re-center himself around a brand new world, only to find that he was betrayed by the woman who vowed to share all burdens, including-but-not-limited-to caffeine logistics.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re deflecting.”

“Only slightly.”

“Still deflecting.”

“I’m also deeply wounded by the desecration of our coffee treaty. A treaty, mind you, that you signed — on our fifth anniversary, no less — after you brewed that ‘experimental roast’ that nearly killed us both.”

Kurisu narrowed her eyes. “That was one time. And for the record, I still say the bitterness was part of the flavor profile.”

“I had to recalibrate my palate with vending machine cocoa for a week,” he said, as if recounting war crimes.

“Don’t be so dramatic. That’s just like when you were traumatized when I gave birth to the twins.” Kurisu said, crossing her arms with a knowing tilt of her head.

Okabe scoffed, lifting his chin. “Please. I wasn’t traumatized. I was... strategically overwhelmed.”

Kurisu arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Strategically.”

He pressed on, undeterred. “Reina was channeling supernatural strength when she grabbed my pinky. I simply entered a state of heightened awareness. Perfectly normal physiological response.”

She gave him a deadpan stare. “You turned pale and whispered ‘the prophecy is real’ to the nurse.”

“I was being poetic,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“You almost fainted.”

“And yet,” he said, placing a hand over his chest as if bestowing honor upon himself, “I remained conscious. A testament to my resilience.”

She rolled her eyes, unable to suppress the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “And yet somehow, this is the same man who once declared he could reprogram the microwave with a screwdriver and a sugar packet.”

“And I did. You enjoyed that pudding, didn’t you?”

“It exploded.”

“Exploded with flavor!”

Kurisu groaned, massaging the bridge of her nose. “Fourteen years and your metaphors still hurt more than your equations.”

“Ah, but both are art, my dear Assistant. Art born from suffering. Yours.”

She gave him a long look. “You know, some couples grow old and mature into quiet understanding. We’re going to be arguing over drawer space in the nursing home, aren’t we?”

“Only if you still refuse to label the spice jars like a civilized person.”

“I did label them. You just keep insisting the labels are red herrings and that oregano is a cryptic code for paprika.”

He smirked. “Spices are the alchemy of the domestic world. One cannot simply trust the label of an experiment-loving woman.”

Kurisu shook her head, half-exasperated, half-affectionate. “Says the one who still trusts that crumbling packet of ‘Mystery Ramen’ from your graduate years.”

“Because I dated a genius who swore she could reverse engineer the flavor molecule.”

“I said that once. In jest. And you’ve brought it up every year since like it was a vow renewal.”

He stepped closer, mock-serious. “Everything you say carries the weight of prophecy. I merely live by your divine sarcasm.”

“And you wonder why Haruki hides the instant noodles when you're on lunch duty.”

“A coward for now who will be bred into the unwavering soldier of tomorrow! He may fear my culinary greatness for now, but he’ll see the light!”

Kurisu let out a short, involuntary laugh. It was the kind of sound that only surfaced after years of rehearsed absurdity — an echo of the rhythms they’d fallen into, danced through, fallen back on. This wasn’t just deflection anymore. It was their language. Theirs alone.

He tilted his head, eyes glinting mischievously. “You laugh now, but one day, when the thermodynamic properties of my ‘Kyouma Soup Surprise’ plunge the world into chaos as the masses flock to taste my creation, you’ll be sorry.”

“I’ll be gone. Along with our children. We’ll be in hiding.”

He gasped, hand over his heart. “You’d abandon me in my prime?”

“I’ve seen your prime. It involved two exploding kettles and a ramen seasoning algorithm.”

“Statistical outliers! Every genius has setbacks.”

“Setbacks don’t usually include the fire department.”

“Which, I’ll remind you, was also impressed.”

Kurisu tilted her head with faux sweetness. “Until you went and referred to the flames as ‘The Phoenix Protocol.’ It was very exciting seeing you try and explain that the flames actually weren’t on purpose.”

“Branding,” he said simply, as if it explained everything.

Kurisu tried to keep a straight face, but a quiet laugh escaped her. Of course, he would twist even that into a win. And somehow, as he grinned in triumph, she felt her thoughts drifting. Drifting away from the whiteboard. From the scrawled equations. From the fear.

She was losing ground, but this time, she was ready. At least, she thought she was.

Her gaze drifted to the whiteboard again. The mess of equations stared back at her. Sharp angles, ink smears, overlapping theories, but they no longer carried the same weight. Somewhere in the back-and-forth, she’d been pulled from her edge of confrontation. Okabe’s antics, maddening as they were, had a gravity to them. They wrapped around her like warmth, dragging her away from her intent.

The equations still mattered, but they weren’t screaming at her anymore.

The sting of fear she felt when she walked in had thinned into an ambient hum, faint and ignorable. She should have been dissecting each symbol, each line - should have kept pressing him. Instead, her mind was adrift in the absurd logic of his diversions, swept into that strange middle ground they always found together: between teasing and tenderness, between sarcasm and sincerity.

Maybe the chaos was harmless. Maybe the whiteboard was a tantrum, not a warning. Maybe the answer wasn’t something dangerous after all - just another one of Okabe’s stormy moods dressed in theoretical overkill. He wasn’t spiraling. He was… coping, maybe. In his own ridiculous, roundabout, infuriating way.

It had become hard to tell where the concern ended and the familiarity began.

Still, some part of her resisted the tide. A flicker of sharp clarity in the corner of her mind, one that wasn’t lulled by old rhythms or well-worn roles. It whispered that she wasn’t thinking clearly, that she wasn’t seeing clearly.

That this, whatever this was, wasn’t over.

“Tell me,” she said, cocking her head, “Do you recall the ‘emergency’ code you slipped into Amadeus just to blare your theme song every time you logged in? Was that also ‘branding?’”

Okabe looked mock-affronted, as if her words had slandered a national treasure. “Theme song? You wound me. That was a carefully curated motivational soundscape.”

Kurisu folded her arms, her tone dry. “It looped. For three straight hours. The lab assistants started unironically calling it the 'Kyouma Hour of Power'.”

He brightened. “Because our lab assistants recognize the underlying power within the noise.”

“You crashed the interface for two whole sessions.”

“And yet the interface rose from the ashes stronger. Like a phoenix. A phoenix of software engineering and unmatched potential!”

She opened her mouth to respond but faltered, lips parting with half a retort before sighing instead. How had they ended up here? How had she gone from interrogating him about neural interference and memory loss to sparring over playlist abuse?

She didn’t remember when she’d let the rhythm take over. The shift had crept in so quietly; one moment she was dissecting his equations with surgical intent, and the next, she was bantering about past “wrongs” and theme songs. Okabe had a way of doing this - pulling her from the jagged edges of her suspicions and grounding her in something softer, something lived-in. It was maddening. It was comforting. It was infuriatingly familiar.

The equations still loomed behind him, scrawled in a frenzy across the whiteboard. Ink ran over ink, numbers layered over broken logic, theoretical models collapsing under the weight of contradiction. Yet the sense of urgency they once stirred in her had dulled, like a radio dial turned too low to catch the static. His absurdities had erected a buffer, a pane of tempered glass between her and the alarm bells. Every sarcastic remark, every ridiculous detour, it wasn’t just background noise. It was their rhythm. A dialect of distraction. A language only they spoke. And without realizing, she’d started replying fluently.

Her thoughts had unraveled. Not from a lack of care, but from the static momentum of their practiced rhythm - a hum of banter that dulled her clarity and pulled her into its comfortable repetition. She wasn’t analyzing his inconsistencies. She wasn’t pressing into his evasions. Her mind drifted, not aimlessly, but comfortably, lulled by old habits and old patterns. Like slipping into a worn coat. Familiar seams. Faded lining. Dangerous warmth.

Because if she wasn’t careful, she’d start believing him. She’d start believing that the scrawled equations were truly just frustration. That the mess was just exhaustion. That his silence was just pride, not fear.

She turned slightly toward the dimmed terminal, the blank screen casting no light, no truth. Her doubt hadn’t vanished. It had just been buried for now.

“You’re impossible,” she said at last, her voice soft and distant. Less an accusation, more an observation.

Okabe tilted his head, a familiar glint in his eye. “Statistically improbable. Dramatically inevitable.”

Kurisu gave a quiet chuckle. She hated how easily he did this. How effortlessly he spun tension into distraction. How he could take her mind and reroute it without force, without resistance.

And how, despite everything, a small part of her wanted to let him. But still… There was a truth buried beneath the static. And she hadn’t stopped listening for it.

Not because she thought he would share it, but because some part of her knew the silence was a sign. The kind of silence that swells just before something breaks.

She lingered a moment longer, her eyes drifting once more to the whiteboard. The ink was beginning to dry, but the weight of it hung fresh in the air. She could still hear the tail end of Okabe’s outburst echoing in the hollows of the room.

Her eyes remained on the whiteboard, but her thoughts were tangled in the residue of their conversation. There was still so much she didn’t understand, and even more he refused to say. Yet the room no longer felt volatile. It was calm now. Too calm. Like the moment before a relapse.

She turned away from the scrawls of ink and static logic, but they burned in the back of her mind. Not because she feared the math — she could handle the math. But because she feared what he’d chosen to hide behind it.

He was always the better liar. Not out of cruelty, nor out of malice, but because he loved too deeply. Because he wanted to spare her the weight. His lies were wrapped in gentleness - woven into jokes, folded behind crooked smiles, tucked into the warmth of familiarity. He laughed when she got too close. He changed the subject with the ease of someone who’d practiced.

And she… she always wanted to believe him when he said all was well. Even now, when she could feel deep within herself that she shouldn’t.

Date: November 21, 2036 6:24:12PM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

The apartment had never felt smaller for Rintaro Okabe.

Moments. That was all it took. Mere moments. His best friend hadn’t even dropped his bags before he took aim at Okabe with a pointed question.

His old friend still had that same hulking frame, the same presence that filled a room by default, but the bulk was different now. Tighter. Sharper. His hoodie clung to his arms like it didn’t quite fit the same anymore. The roundness was gone, replaced by something harder. Not slim, but solid. Trained. Different from the skinniness that afflicted just about everyone in the Beta Worldline. This was surely the man that Suzuha envisioned when she tried to push her father to work out.

“So?” Daru said, unslinging his backpack from his shoulders with a dull thud . “When did you change worldlines?”

Okabe blinked once.

The canvas bag landed by the door with a lazy slump, but the question struck like a live wire. It jolted something in him—deep, automatic, bone-deep—but the tone didn’t match the weight. Daru’s voice wasn’t biting. Wasn’t suspicious. It was teasing. Casual, even. The grin on his face ruined any chance it had of sounding sincere.

Still, Okabe’s chest tightened.

By the time Daru said it, Suzuha had already vanished down the hallway with Reina and Haruki in tow, the kids squealing about secret handshakes and bedtime raids. Their door clicked shut behind them, muffling their joy and sealing the four adults into a space that suddenly felt far too quiet. The kind of quiet that amplified everything—every rustle of clothing, every breath, every beat of Okabe’s too-fast heart.

Okabe turned slowly toward him, mustering a brow-raised smirk. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Daru replied, tone still light, eyes gleaming with the smugness of someone enjoying his own joke. “You’re acting weird. Suspicious. Off your game. I figured, why not toss the old bait in the water, see what bites?”

Okabe narrowed his eyes and pressed a hand dramatically to his chest. “That’s how you greet me?” he said, putting extra lilt into the words. “No reverent salute for the great Hououin Kyouma? No trembling awe at my ageless visage, preserved through sheer will and caffeine? Just baseless accusations, like some common foot soldier of the Organization?”

He even added a slow flourish of the wrist and a half-bow for effect. But Daru didn’t even crack a smile.

The thought left a strange twist in Okabe’s chest. Pride, maybe. Or nostalgia. Or just the weight of noticing too late.

“You didn’t correct me,” Daru said, snapping him back.

Okabe blinked. “What?”

Daru jerked his chin toward Yuki, who was kneeling by the couch, quietly unzipping one of the larger duffels. “I said, ‘Operation: Stuff Our Faces with American Food has commenced.’ And you didn’t even blink.”

Yuki looked up with a soft smile and raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t the real name?”

“Nope,” Daru said flatly. “He never called it that.”

Okabe rolled his eyes, waving a dismissive hand. “Daru, I let you get away with so much. You really think I have the energy to correct every single one of your botched codenames?”

“You’ve never let me misquote an operation name without correcting me” Daru shot back, stepping forward with the same lazy confidence he always carried when he thought he was about to be clever. “Not once. The real name was Operation: Sægráðungarblót. You screamed it during your wedding. In front of Kuri-tan’s aunt. The one with the pacemaker.”

Yuki groaned softly and rose to her feet. “Oh right. That night.”

Okabe gave a tired shrug, trying to play off the sudden heat rising in the back of his neck. “We’ve had, what, twenty codenames for our food crusades? They blur together. Forgive me for not cross-referencing the sacred archives.”

But Daru just folded his arms across his broad chest, all amusement draining from his eyes.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s do the test.”

Okabe’s stomach clenched. He felt it—the way the tone changed. The way the room seemed to lean in, just slightly. The way Daru still thought this was a game.

“Oh no,” Okabe muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Kurisu, standing near the wall by the kitchen, lifted her head. Her posture sharpened. She didn’t speak, but her gaze shifted - watchful now. Focused.

Yuki blinked, clearly confused. “Is this… a thing?”

“It’s a thing,” Daru said, still wearing that damn grin. “Back in 2025, he pulled me aside and said if he was ever compromised - his words, not mine - ‘replaced by a version of myself molded from cosmic betrayal,’ I had to have a way to verify his identity.”

Kurisu tilted her head. “That… definitely sounds like him.”

Okabe forced a laugh. It sounded thin. “This is starting to feel like a very elaborate prank.”

“Exactly!” Daru grinned, stepping forward now. “So let’s finish it.”

He squared his shoulders, looked Okabe straight in the eye, and said with theatrical clarity:

“What is the true name of the microwave?”

Okabe froze.

The question hit harder than expected. Not because it was dramatic, but because there was nothing waiting inside him to answer it. No memory. No instinct. No echo of familiarity. Just blank space. A test he had never prepared for. A joke he didn’t know the punchline to.

He smiled weakly, pushing the words out like they meant nothing.

“It’s the PhoneWave,” he said. “(Name subject to change).”

Daru stared. Then, very slowly, his smile began to fade.

“…Wrong,” he said, voice suddenly quiet.

Kurisu’s arms uncrossed, her eyes narrowing.

“You banned that name,” Daru said. “You made sure to never mention it again after the summer that we first built it. The name you gave us was ‘The Quantum Disruptor of Infinite Regret: Version 3.33 Requiem Eternity Edition’ . ”

Yuki covered her mouth, clearly trying not to laugh. “You made him say that out loud, Okarin-san?”

“Every month,” Daru said, but the humor had completely drained from his voice. “Startup ritual. You made me print it out. Tape it to the ceiling over my desk.”

He turned to Okabe again, slower this time.

“You were supposed to groan,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “You were supposed to call me a fool the way you usually would. You were supposed to remember. ”

Okabe didn’t speak. Didn’t move. There was nothing left in him to perform with. And Daru, watching him, finally seemed to realize what he’d just uncovered.

“You don’t remember,” he said, the words soft and staggering. “Because it wasn’t you.”

The silence that followed was different this time. It wasn’t confused. It wasn’t shocked. It was understood.

Kurisu stepped forward slightly, the floor creaking beneath her weight. Her voice, when it came, was quiet, but it carved through the room like a blade. “When?”

“Huh?” Daru blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden sharpness in her tone.

“When did you establish this test with him?” she pressed, her eyes pinned to his.

Daru shifted awkwardly, glancing down at his sneakers before mumbling, “2025. I made an off-hand comment about him acting weird... not like the usual Okarin. He laughed it off, but then he made me memorize the new name for the PhoneWave - said if he was ever ‘compromised,’ I’d be the one to spot it. I thought he was just messing with me.”

Kurisu’s arms slowly dropped to her sides. Her hands balled into fists, subtle but visible. “So he told you,” she said.

Daru’s breath caught. 

“I - I thought it was a joke,” he said helplessly. His broad frame sagged slightly, his hoodie clinging to his shoulders like it weighed a ton.

“No,” Kurisu said, sharper now. “It wasn’t.” 

Yuki stepped back instinctively, glancing between them with wide eyes, one hand clutching the fabric of the couch like an anchor. Kurisu’s gaze never moved. It was locked on Daru, hard and unblinking, even as her voice stayed eerily steady.

“I knew he was scared back then,” she said. “I knew he was carrying something too heavy for him to handle alone. I could see it — in his hands when they trembled. In the way he avoided my eyes. I knew something was wrong.” She moved restlessly, pacing a few steps toward the dining table and then back again, the wooden floor groaning beneath her boots. 

“But I didn’t know he was certain,” she continued, each word landing heavier than the last. “I didn’t know he knew there was a risk he'd be overwritten. That he was actively preparing for it. And the whole time, you had a piece of that truth.”

Daru didn’t speak. His broad shoulders sagged further, his face pale under the harsh kitchen light. 

"I didn’t think it mattered," he muttered. "He never said it was serious. He acted like it was just... old-school Okarin stuff."

The heater clicked off again, the room sinking into a thicker, colder silence. Kurisu turned slowly toward Okabe now, and when their eyes met, it wasn’t anger that shone in hers. It was something heavier. Something far harder to fix.

"You didn’t know," she said softly, and Okabe, standing near the door, swallowed but didn’t respond. "But he did." 

She spoke of the Okabe that came before as a separate entity from the one who stood in front of her for the first time since his arrival to the worldline. This time, though, there was less of a yearning for that person than before.

"I keep telling myself I'm done being upset with him already," she said, her arms wrapping loosely around herself, not in anger but in self-defense. "That I've accepted the secrets he kept." 

Her voice tightened at the edges, the words pressing against the walls. "But every time I start to breathe again, every time I think I've found the floor - another secret surfaces. Another crack I never saw. Another thing he couldn’t trust me with."

Okabe didn’t move. He couldn’t. The knowledge of it — of every wall she had crashed against alone while he had kept silent — was heavier than anything he could counter. The soft yellow kitchen light seemed colder now, the walls of the apartment inching inward.

"When he first suggested merging your memories," Kurisu continued, her voice quieter but harder, "I thought we were going to try and rebuild someone I understood. Someone I loved. Someone I believed in without question." She raked a hand through her hair, the strands falling into her eyes, her body trembling in place. "But now... now I realize something I didn’t want to admit."

She shifted again, backing into the dining table, her hands pressing against the edge for balance. "Memories aren’t just facts. They’re habits. Instincts. They're the fears you carry, the reflexes you don't even realize you have. If we succeed in merging everything — if we rebuild everything that was — how do I know whose instincts will survive?"

Her eyes locked on Okabe’s, hollow and hollowing him out at the same time. "How do I know that the man we create won’t choose to shut me out again? To smile and lie and leave me piecing him together alone — again?"

The room was suffocating. Okabe could feel every pulse in his fingertips, every shallow breath rattling in his lungs, but he couldn’t force himself to move. Daru stood near the couch, his arms limp, his expression broken. Yuki lingered nearby, one hand still clenched at her side, her face pale and stricken.

"I keep finding pieces of him I never got to hold," Kurisu whispered. "And every time, it feels less like an accident and more like a choice he made to keep me on the outside."

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, they were shining — not with tears, but with something deeper. Loss. Finality.

"I thought we were building a bridge back to him," she said, her voice barely carrying across the room. "But maybe... I was building a bridge to someone who never intended to let me cross."

She uncrossed her arms and dropped them to her sides, her body trembling slightly under the strain of holding herself together.

"I’m not angry at you," she said again, almost whispering, the words directed at Okabe but meant for something larger. "I know this isn’t your fault."

She stepped back once — slow, measured — but it felt like the floor itself cracked beneath her feet. "But I can’t pretend anymore that merging your memories will magically fix everything. I can’t trust the outcome if I don’t even know what’s waiting for me. And if I can’t trust it... how can I expect you to?"

Her final words fell into the silence like stones sinking into deep water.

Without another glance, she turned and moved toward the front door. Each step was deliberate, her body rigid with the force of keeping herself from breaking down. She pulled her boots on with stiff hands, grabbed her coat off the hook, and wrapped it around herself in one fluid motion.

The door latch clicked. Cold air poured into the apartment as Kurisu stepped into the night. The smell of rain on concrete filled the hallway in her wake.

Okabe stood frozen. Daru shifted a step forward instinctively but stopped himself. Yuki, close beside him, gently caught his sleeve to hold him back.

The sound of Kurisu’s boots echoed up the stairwell, fainter and fainter, until it vanished altogether.

And in the space she left behind, only the worn furniture, half-unpacked bags, and heavy silence remained — pressing down on all of them like a second skin.

Okabe stayed where he was, staring at the door. He thought about following her. About saying something, anything. But he knew better. Some distances could not be crossed with words. Some wounds had to bleed freely before they could even think about healing.

And so he stood there, surrounded by the fragments of a life that had almost been whole.

Date: November 21, 2036 6:34:23PM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

The stairwell was colder than Kurisu Okabe expected. Each step up scraped like a blade against concrete, her boots echoing into the narrow shaft. The only light came from a flickering bulb on the landing, the kind that always seemed to buzz louder when your thoughts were already too loud. Her breath was visible now, soft clouds that vanished before she could even feel them.

When she reached the door to the rooftop, she hesitated. Just for a moment. One hand rested on the handle. Her fingers curled against the chill of the metal. Then she pushed it open.

The rooftop air hit her like a wave — cold, sharp, full of static. The kind of air that wrapped around your skin and made it impossible to lie to oneself. Above, the sky stretched wide and unrelenting. A low ceiling of cloud cover smothered the stars, painting the horizon in gray tones of the city’s reflected glow.

She stepped out, letting the heavy door clatter shut behind her, muffling the last fragments of warmth from the apartment below. The rooftop was slightly different from the last time she came up here — gone were the house plants and lawn chairs as they were brought inside to prepare for the rain. All that remained was the A/C towers, and the chain link railing that was the last place she ever spoke to her husband before his memory loss. People hardly ever came up here. Not unless they wanted to be alone.

Kurisu crossed to the far side slowly, wrapping her arms tighter around herself, her coat not quite enough to block out the cold. Wind pressed at the edges of her hair, tugging strands loose and sweeping them across her face. She didn’t bother to fix them. She just stood there, staring out at the city. Watching cars like veins of red and gold moving through the streets far below. Watching the skyline flicker like a heartbeat she no longer trusted.

The tears didn’t come right away. They never did. She had become too good at sealing the seams, too practiced at keeping herself from breaking in front of others. But up on the rooftop, there was no one to see her unravel. No one to ask questions she wasn’t ready to answer. No one to stop her from admitting what she could barely admit to herself.

That she didn’t know what she was building toward anymore.

She pressed a hand to her chest, gripping the fabric of her coat just over her heart, as if that could hold her together. As if it could stop the question still echoing through her: What exactly are we trying to bring back?

Not just memories. A person. But whose person?

She had loved Okabe with everything she had, but how much of him had ever been fully hers? How many pieces had he kept hidden under the guise of protecting her? And if even in love, even in marriage, even at the end, he’d still carried things alone… then what would a merged Okabe become? A man who knew how to lie by omission so well he had built a fortress from it? Would he be the one who learned to confide in her, or the one who perfected silence until it drowned them both?

Kurisu squeezed her eyes shut, the tears finally slipping free and catching on her cheeks like the bite of winter air. She didn’t sob. She just stood there, the wind stealing the warmth from her tears, the ache in her chest expanding until it left no room for breath.

She thought of his smile.

Rintaro Okabe. The one who made her furious and fascinated in equal measure; the one who made her laugh when she didn't want to; the one who could never hide when he was hurting. She then thought of the cracks she had missed; of the quiet calculations behind his eyes; of the panic he swallowed for everyone’s sake, even hers.

She pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, as if she could push these doubts away by sheer will. She had to. If she let them win, the ground beneath her would collapse completely.

The Rintaro Okabe who saved her life was responsible for some of her happiest memories. Real ones. Not rewritten by grief, not clouded by doubt.

She clung to them now.

She remembered the first day the twins came home — Reina, tiny and fierce, wailing with indignation the moment she was placed in her crib, and Haruki, blinking up at the world with a stoic solemnity that felt absurd for someone weighing less than six pounds. Okabe had swept into the nursery with a grand, exaggerated cape-flourish of a hospital blanket draped over his shoulders, proclaiming himself the "Great Defender of Twinkind!" He had declared their bedroom a “neutral zone” from the Organization’s nefarious attempts to sap their life-force via sleep deprivation.

Kurisu had groaned into her hands, laughing despite herself, as he fashioned "wards" made of empty formula containers around their cribs and solemnly appointed himself their eternal protector. But when night fell and the house grew still, she had caught him standing quietly by Reina’s crib, his hand resting lightly against the bars, whispering promises he probably never meant anyone to overhear.

She remembered the day Reina lost her first tooth — a mundane rite of passage that Okabe had turned into an emergency lab mission. He had sprinted through the apartment with a toy radio shouting "Code Crimson! A vital organ has been recovered from enemy forces!" while Haruki, holding the tiny tooth in a plastic bag, gave chase, utterly deadpan, as if he were the lab’s newest, most unimpressed agent.

Reina had laughed until she cried, and Kurisu had barely managed to snap a photo before Okabe swept their daughter up in his arms, declaring her the “the truest of mad scientists” for her bravery in the face of “tooth-based adversity.”

And it wasn’t just the big moments, either. It was the small ones.

She remembered the way he used to set up "training montages" for the twins when they were little — stacking couch cushions into obstacle courses, pretending to shout instructions from a fictional resistance HQ. Haruki would plod along with determined concentration, while Reina hurled herself into the missions with reckless glee. Through it all, Okabe had roared encouragement with all the gusto of a man commanding an army, but when the kids stumbled, when they cried, it was the gentlest hands and the softest voice that soothed them.

She remembered lazy Saturday mornings when the four of them would pile onto the living room floor, coffee spilling dangerously close to important research notes, Reina clambering onto Okabe’s back while Haruki carefully organized the manga Okabe kept meaning to shelve. Okabe would bellow in mock agony, claiming he had been "felled by twin-bladed assassins," before collapsing dramatically onto the carpet — Reina victorious atop him, Haruki offering a quiet "good job" to his sister.

She remembered anniversary dinners hastily thrown together in the lab after deadlines or disasters, where Okabe would still insist on toasting her with grand, sweeping speeches about “the indomitable crimson genius who deigned to love this insane mad scientist.”

She remembered his hand against the small of her back whenever she was asked to speak at large team dinners, an unconscious steadying gesture that told her without words: “ I’m here. I’m proud. I love you. ”

The wind whipped harder against the rooftop, but Kurisu barely felt it anymore. She clutched these memories to her chest like armor. These memories were real. These memories mattered. Beneath the ridiculous theatrics, the endless Kyouma-esque declarations, the bad jokes and dramatic speeches, Okabe had always been trying. Always reaching for them - for her.

The cracks had been there, yes. The silences. The secrets. The fear he could never quite lay down. But so had the love. Fierce. Clumsy. Unbreakable in its own battered, absurd way.

These memories weren't just fragments. They were proof. Proof of the man he was — flawed, theatrical, ridiculous — but real.

And then another memory surfaced, sharper than the rest: Haruki, laying beside her in her bed, solemn beyond his years, speaking to her with that same patient intensity that had always made him seem older than he was whenever he wasn’t playing the role of Arakawa Masamune.

“We’re going to merge Papa’s memories. He’ll have all the memories from before and all the memories of now. In all those memories, you were in love with him, not some version of him, but him. It doesn’t matter what old Papa thinks, nor what this Papa thinks because the new Papa with the merged memories could also be a different person based on these weird standards you’ve set.”

She had promised her husband tonight — the one standing in the kitchen, the one who still fought to simply be enough — that there was no room for doubt anymore. That they had to move forward with everything they had, or not at all.

Kurisu exhaled, the breath shaking free in the cold. She couldn't afford to stand here drowning in uncertainty. She couldn’t abandon what they were fighting to reach. What he believed could be reached.

The man she loved — the man she still loved — had hidden his fears. Had made mistakes. Had failed her in ways she hadn’t understood. But he had never stopped trying for her sake.

The wind tore another strand of hair loose across her cheek, but she didn’t brush it away. She felt alive again. She could feel her confidence in her husband returning. She basked in this feeling for only a couple of moments until she felt a much heavier fabric being draped over her. A thick blanket that was meant to supplement her coat in providing her warmth. To Kurisu, everything was the same as the night that started this whole journey. Everything except for the embrace of her husband. 

"It would do us no good if my Assistant were to catch a cold now would it?"

Yet despite the sameness not being exact, the memories of her husband still poked through the man who was with her now. The same smugness in his tone; the same underlying sense of caring. No matter how frustrated or upset she could be with Rintaro Okabe, he always found a way to make it known that he was protecting her, even unwittingly.

Date: November 21, 2036 6:34:27PM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

The silence between those who remained in the apartment  stretched taut, broken only by the faint hum of the heater and the soft sound of the wind hitting the living room window.

Daru shifted forward in his chair, elbows braced on his knees. His fingers tapped restlessly against each other, a nervous tic he didn’t seem to notice.

“When did you jump worldlines?” he asked finally. A repeat of his question when the Hashidas first arrived, but this time more serious than teasing.

Okabe leaned his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling for a long moment before answering.

“Just last week," he said. "That’s when the worldline shifted from Beta to Steins Gate."

Daru frowned slightly, processing that, but nodded. "Okay. So... how far back do your memories not match up with ours?"

Okabe lowered his gaze to meet Daru’s. His expression was calm, but there was a kind of quiet exhaustion in the set of his shoulders. A man carrying the weight of too many missing years.

“July 28, 2010," Okabe said. "The day Kurisu... was supposed to die."

Daru blinked. "That far back?"

Okabe nodded once, deliberate. “Before that, everything should line up perfectly. After that...” He shrugged one shoulder, a loose, defeated gesture. "I lived a very different life."

Daru sat back slightly, his face twisting in a way that suggested he was trying to find humor but couldn’t. He scratched at the back of his head, staring at Okabe like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t know how to even start.

He leaned forward, arms resting loosely on his knees. His voice was lighter than before, but only because he didn’t know how else to begin.

"So... you don’t remember winning the Nobel Prize?” he asked, a half-grin twitching at the corner of his mouth.

Okabe shook his head slowly. “No.”

Daru tried again. “Faris making MayQueen a worldwide phenomenon?”

Another shake of the head.

“Mayuri getting that big teacher’s award for her work in Tokyo?”

Okabe smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No. I know of them — stories Kurisu and the kids told me. But I don’t remember living any of it.”

The grin slid off Daru’s face. His hands folded tighter between his knees.

“So what do you remember?” he asked, voice quieter now.

Okabe’s answer came without hesitation.

“I remember Japan burning,” he said. “I remember ration lines stretching for blocks. I remember the day the sky first went black over Akihabara, and no one could tell if it was clouds or ash.”

Daru didn’t move.

“I remember the day that the war started,” Okabe continued, voice growing more hollow. “It was the day Mayuri and Suzuha left for the past in the time machine. They gambled everything to bring about Steins Gate… only for me to discover that we still had a long way to go.”

The apartment felt colder, even with the heater rattling behind them.

“In the Beta Worldline, there were no celebrations. No accolades. No futures to build,” Okabe said. "There was only survival."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Daru sat back slowly, his face unreadable, his hand brushing once against Yuki’s, grounding himself in the simple certainty of her presence.

Finally, Yuki spoke for the first time since Kurisu’s departure, breaking the silence. “You’ve been carrying that... this whole time.”

Okabe gave a small, tired nod.

“Being in this worldline doesn’t erase everything that happened to me in the other one," he said. "But at the very least I’m here. With those who loved me with all their heart."

Daru exhaled slowly, the kind of breath that seemed to scrape the inside of his chest on the way out.

"Next question," he said, voice rough but steady.

Daru was quiet for a long moment, his fingers tapping restlessly against each other — not out of boredom, but something closer to grounding himself. Okabe remembered that tic. He’d seen it in the Beta worldline too — when Daru was nervous, or thinking too hard, or stuck between pretending not to care and caring too much.

“When you say ‘a different life,’” Daru said eventually, his voice softer now. “Does that life still... include me?”

Okabe turned to look at him, surprised not by the question but by the weight behind it.

“Of course it does,” he said. “You were the only person who could ever get under my skin and make me laugh about it while the world was on fire.”

Daru huffed faintly. “Figures. Even across timelines, I’m still the comic relief.”

“No,” Okabe said. “You were the life of Valkyrie. You rigged a microwave into a signal booster using two batteries and a roll of foil. You got us satellite time with one of your eroges that you cracked before the war started. You—”

“Okay, okay,” Daru held up both hands, smirking. “Now you’re just flattering me.”

Okabe didn’t smile.

“You still crack your knuckles when you’re about to say something you’re scared might sound too real,” he said quietly. “You did that in the Beta Worldline, too. Right before telling me I was being an idiot for thinking I had to carry the time machine project alone when I found the will to fight again.”

Daru blinked, caught off guard.

“…Still sounds like me,” he muttered, then added with a wide grin, “Not like I got less awesome in this worldline.”

Yuki, ever graceful, gave a soft smile — delicate, polite, and terrifying in a way that most people wouldn’t catch. “You didn’t get more subtle, either.”

Daru gave a delighted shiver. “Oooh. That’s the classic ice queen route. Just unlocked a hidden dialogue node, I can feel it.”

Okabe arched an eyebrow. “Are you narrating your marriage like a dating sim?”

“You act like the idea would never cross my mind,” Daru said, eyes gleaming behind his glasses. “You’re looking at a man who S-ranked the real-life yandere princess archetype. Level ninety in verbal dismemberment. One hundred percent completion in ‘polite but lethal.’”

Yuki touched two fingers lightly to his arm as she passed behind him. “You realize you’re calling your wife a yandere , dear?”

“That’s part of the challenge curve,” Daru said without missing a beat, grinning. “Boss fights need mechanics.”

Okabe let out a soft sigh through his nose, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “Some things really do transcend worldlines.”

Daru chuckled, then paused. His smile faded slightly as he glanced down at his hands, then at Yuki, who moved with effortless grace toward the far side of the room.

“…Huh,” he said after a moment, quieter. “You’re telling me even Beta Worldline me was still like this?”

Okabe looked at him steadily. “You were quieter. Scruffier. Maybe a little more tired. But yeah. You still loved her exactly like this.”

Daru blinked. His hand went up to scratch awkwardly at the back of his head. “Seriously? Same flavor of loser, even in the apocalypse?”

“You weren’t a loser," Okabe said. "You were just you. The heart of it never changed."

Daru leaned back slowly in his chair, a wry grin spreading across his face. “Man. Of all the variables in the universe, I didn’t expect me to be a constant.”

Okabe nodded once, the faintest smile pulling at his mouth. “You are. In every worldline I’ve seen, you’re still Daru. Still perverted. Still brilliant. Still loyal.”

Daru let out a breath, a sound caught somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh. “Kinda cool. Not gonna lie.”

Yuki, still moving with that effortless poise, offered a sweet smile that didn’t quite hide its edge. “I would have settled for ‘consistent.’”

“She says that,” Daru muttered with a grin, “but now I know she married me for my multiverse-spanning emotional resilience.”

Yuki said nothing, only brushing a stray thread off her sleeve with the kind of delicate, deliberate motion that carried more menace than any raised voice.

Okabe watched them. The easy orbit they fell into, the ridiculousness and sincerity wound so tightly together it was impossible to pull apart. It was an absurd familiarity that brought back flashes of what Valkyrie was like in the Beta Worldline.

In all the chaos, all the broken futures and diverging paths, some things had endured. Not because fate had protected them. But because the people inside those stories had chosen to hold onto each other, no matter what.

Okabe let out a slow breath, something in his chest settling.

The moment lingered, a thin thread stretched between them, the heater's hum scraping against the weight in the air.

Okabe rose slowly and proceeded to grab his coat by the front door. Daru and Yuki watched him, not pushing, not pleading, but leaving no room for retreat either.

His fingers lingered at the collar for a moment before he spoke, voice rough but certain.

“She’s carried this from the moment I arrived,” he said, staring at the door as if he could see the rooftop through it. “Before I could even understand where I was, before I could even breathe, she already knew something was wrong.”

He tightened his grip on the coat.

“She knew without me saying a word. She saw it before I could even see it in myself.”

Neither Daru nor Yuki interrupted. They stayed still, listening, grounding him without smothering him.

“I hurt her without meaning to. I made her question everything we had built. I saw it the moment she realized I wasn’t the man who saved her, the moment she realized she had to grieve me while I stood right in front of her.”

The images flooded him again: Kurisu crumpling to the ground, her sobs cutting into the night, the crack of her hand across his cheek when her heartbreak overflowed.

Okabe forced a breath through his lungs.

“She stayed. She didn’t run. She didn’t make me choose between who I was and who I wasn’t. She just kept moving forward, even when I gave her every reason to falter.”

Yuki’s lips pressed together, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Her poise looked like armor, gentle on the surface but impossible to shake.

“She carried it all for me. For our kids. For herself. She had no map, no certainty, only faith in the things I told her before I lost my memories.”

Daru shifted slightly, his hoodie stretching across his shoulders as he crossed his arms. The usual slouch was gone, replaced by something more solid.

“She deserves to fall apart if she needs to,” Okabe said, quieter now. “Without feeling like she’s failing anyone.”

He pulled the coat fully around him, fastening it in one practiced motion that seemed to settle something deeper inside him.

“She’s already done enough. It’s my turn now.”

Yuki smiled softly. It wasn’t the teasing, bright smile she often gave Daru. It was something smaller and sadder, something that belonged to someone who understood loss.

“She doesn't need you to be perfect," she said. "She just needs you to be hers.”

Daru exhaled, hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

With the coat pulled on, he made a move for the door, movements steady, then paused. His eyes drifted to the blanket that was lazily laying on the couch - the one that she wore when he first arrived into the worldline.

Without thinking, he picked it up. Folded it carefully, once, then tucked it under his arm.

Daru gave a small, rough chuckle behind him, the sound low but fond.

“Good call, man," he said. "Let her ruin it if she needs to. That’s what mad scientist capes are for.”

Okabe allowed himself the faintest smile. He moved toward the door, the air around him already feeling colder with the night pressing against it.

As he reached for the latch, Daru’s voice followed him. It was not loud, not a rallying cry, but it struck true.

"Go get her, Okarin."

The door swung open and the cold city air swept inside, carrying the scent of rain on asphalt. Okabe stepped through into the night without hesitation, his coat bracing him against the wind.

The cold bit sharper out here. Concrete groaned under his boots as he moved across the outdoor corridor, heading for the stairwell at the far end. Each step felt heavier than it should have, not from exhaustion, but from everything he still hadn’t said.

The stairwell door creaked faintly as he pushed it open. The metal steps were slick from the misty air, his hand brushing the damp railing as he climbed. The weak light above flickered, buzzing like an insect caught against glass.

At the top landing, he paused. Through the narrow rectangular window in the rooftop door, he could see her. Kurisu stood by the far railing, small against the vast gray sprawl of the city skyline. The wind tore at her coat and hair, strands whipping free across her face. She didn’t move to brush them away. She just stood there, arms folded tight against herself, her shoulders stiff with something that wasn’t just cold.

Okabe tightened his grip on the blanket, exhaled once, and pushed the door open. It clattered against the frame before swinging inward, muffling the last warmth from the stairwell behind him. The rooftop was colder still, the air biting and restless, carrying with it the faint metallic scent of renewed rain yet to fall.

Kurisu didn’t turn at the sound of the door. She didn’t flinch. 

Okabe stepped forward quietly, his boots scraping lightly against the rooftop concrete. He crossed the open space between them slowly, the city lights spilling long shadows across the ground.

When he was close enough to reach her, he paused.

Carefully, almost reverently, he lifted the blanket from his arm and draped it around her shoulders.

"It would do us no good if my Assistant were to catch a cold now would it?"

Kurisu didn’t move at first. After a few moments, she turned and pressed herself against him, her fists gripping his coat, her breath trembling against the fabric between them.

Okabe held her steady, waiting. Not demanding. Just... there.

When she finally spoke, her voice was rough around the edges but steady, carved from something deeper than fear.

“It’s not fair,” she whispered. “None of this is fair.”

Okabe’s arms tightened, cradling her more securely against the cold.

“You’re here," she said, her voice low but gaining weight with every word. "You’re holding me like you always used to. You’re more open than he ever was. You tell me what you’re thinking without me having to pull it out of you."

Her fingers twisted into his coat, drawing him closer without even meaning to.

"And that’s what hurts." A tremor worked its way through her shoulders. "You’re everything I wanted him to become... but you don’t have the memories we built together."

Okabe closed his eyes, feeling the words land like blows he couldn’t parry. But still, he didn’t let go.

Kurisu drew in a sharp breath, grounding herself.

"I hated his silences," she continued, more steadily now. "I hated that I had to guess at the things he was too proud to say. I hated that he let himself drown rather than reach for me."

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze — her violet eyes fierce through the sheen of tears she refused to shed now.

"But I never hated him," she said. "I loved him. I fought for him. Even when he didn’t know how to let me."

Her hands gripped the blanket tighter around her shoulders, as if anchoring herself to the present.

"And you," she said, voice thick but unwavering. "You’re not some broken copy. You’re him. You’re everything good and bad and stubborn and brilliant about him. But you’re also free of some of the walls he never found a way to break down."

Okabe said nothing. He wouldn’t interrupt this. This mattered too much.

"I’m scared," she admitted, her voice cracking just slightly. "I’m scared of what the merger might do. Of losing the parts of you that trust me so easily. Of losing the pieces of him that built the life we’ve been so blessed to have."

She took a breath, longer this time. Calmer.

"But I’m not running from it," Kurisu said. "Not anymore."

She snuggled into Okabe, her forehead pressing lightly against his chest.

"I want to build a future where we’re whole," she murmured. "Where both versions of you — the one who saved me and built this life with me, and the one who trusts me with all his heart no matter what — can stand together."

The wind whipped at them again, cutting through the rooftop with biting cold. But Kurisu stayed steady in his arms, grounded by her own choice this time.

"I’m ready," she whispered. "I’m ready to move forward. With you. Whatever comes out of this merger... I’ll face it."

Okabe closed his eyes, exhaling slowly against the top of her head. The tightness in his chest didn’t vanish, but it shifted. Softened. Became something he could bear.

Kurisu’s arms stayed rigid around him, muscles locked with tension beneath the blanket still curled around her shoulders. Her forehead stayed pressed to his chest, not out of surrender, but necessity — the kind of closeness someone allowed themselves only because pulling away would take more effort.

When she finally spoke, her voice was brittle. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve managed this long. I can keep managing.”

Okabe didn’t loosen his hold. He still sensed the uncertainty in Kurisu’s voice. He could feel her swimming in the memories that were no longer accessible to him as if they were now just dreams of a forgotten time. “Managing”. That is all Kurisu had been doing up until now.

“You don’t have to keep managing,” he said.

Her shoulders stiffened. She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were dry but glossy, reflecting the rooftop lights like glass on the verge of shattering. “I can’t just fall apart. What would that solve? The kids still need me. You still need me to make sense of this merger.”

He shook his head slowly, his breath fogging faintly between them. “That’s not what I need most right now.”

Her brow furrowed. She blinked fast, like she was trying to recenter herself, recalibrating to something more clinical. “Then what do you need, Okarin?”

“I need you to give yourself the grace to feel what you’ve buried,” he said. “To let yourself break, if that’s what you need.”

The edges of her mouth twitched, not quite a frown, not quite anything. “I’ve already broken. Twice. Once when Reina and Haruki asked questions I couldn’t answer. Once when I realized I fell in love with you and hated myself for it. That was enough. I can’t afford a third.”

“You didn’t break,” he said gently. “You bent under pressure no one else could’ve withstood. You carried every one of us when the foundation was gone.”

Her mouth opened as if to argue, but she couldn’t find the words. Her lips trembled. The skin beneath her eyes tightened as she fought to keep the tears at bay.

“You never truly gave yourself a chance to grieve the version of me you lost,” he said, his voice even softer now. “The one that made you happiest. You mourned that loss in pieces - quietly, privately - maybe. And now you think if you stop holding it together in front of me or the kids for even a second, it’ll all come undone.”

She turned her face away sharply, biting down on her lip. The wind caught a loose strand of her hair and whipped it across her cheek, but she didn’t move to brush it away. Her breathing grew uneven, shallow and ragged.

“If I fall apart again—” she began.

“You won’t be alone.”

He said it with no hesitation, no grandness, no performative bravado. Just simple, undeniable truth. It struck something deep inside her, that quiet place where she’d buried every breakdown she’d never let herself have ever since his initial arrival to Steins Gate.

And with that, the walls gave out.

Kurisu lurched forward into him, the tension draining from her like a snapped wire. Her hands fisted in his coat as her body sagged against his. A sharp, broken sob tore from her throat as she buried her face into his chest. Her knees gave out, and Okabe caught her without flinching, sinking with her until they were both on the rooftop floor, blanketed in cold and grief and love alike.

The wind howled around them, but she didn’t feel it. She couldn’t feel it. Her body shook with the force of a dam finally bursting, and with it came the memories. The tiny, unremarkable miracles that had made her the happiest woman in the world burst forth.

The memory of lazy mornings when he'd fall asleep against her shoulder on the couch, his hair still damp from the shower, his phone half-balanced on his chest with an unfinished text to Mayuri glowing dimly.

The memory of him trying to explain a Spark Wars plotline to Reina and Haruki, doing every voice with dramatic flair, only for both kids to fall asleep halfway through. He carried them to bed one by one, grumbling about "the youth of today," but kissed each forehead before closing the door.

The memory of a quiet Tuesday where he showed up to the Neuroscience Institute with a box of strawberry Pocky and no explanation, just saying, “ It is the duty of a mad scientist to reward his Assistant when she deserves it."

The memory of their ten-year wedding anniversary, when he made a reservation at a high-end restaurant in Japan, only to accidentally leave his wallet at their hotel. They ended up on a bench at the train station sharing a vending machine sandwich and laughing until they cried.

The memory of their children’s first school science fair — how he nearly wept with pride when Reina presented her electromagnetic levitation project using magnets and Haruki stood in front of a meticulously engineered paper airplane that was clearly designed by both of them together. He proudly proclaimed “Insane mad science runs strong in the blood of Hououin Kyouma’s spawn,” and took fifty blurry photos.

The memory of every ordinary night, brushing their teeth side by side. The casual, unconscious way he reached for her hand in bed. The way he always made her coffee, even if he didn’t drink it himself.

The memory of hearing him say “I love you” in a quiet voice, one not meant to impress or perform — just to be true.

All of it. The soft things. The steady things. The life they built together.

And now... this version of him held her with the same arms, spoke in the same voice, looked at her with the same eyes — but didn’t remember a single one of those moments.

Her sobs deepened, not wild but aching. The sound of a heart unraveling in the face of all it had lost.

She cried for the man who had watched her give birth and nearly fainted when Reina clutched his finger. For the man who forgot their laundry in the wash every time and offered lectures on temporal relativity as a defense. For the man who, on her worst days, simply lay beside her in silence until her breath slowed again.

For all the laughter. For all the small, ordinary happiness that no one else would ever understand.

She cried because she hadn’t had the chance to mourn those memories properly. Because she had shoved them down in the name of logic, of survival, of moving forward — and they were too heavy now to hold alone.

Okabe didn’t speak. He dared not interrupt. His hand moved in slow circles over her back, grounding her, reminding her that she didn’t have to do this alone.

She sobbed until her breath hitched, until her voice gave out, until her fingers, white-knuckled in his coat, finally loosened.

She had never let herself fall like this in such a long time. Never in front of anyone else besides her husband.

But here, in his arms — even without the memories — she had the one thing she had always needed from him.

Permission. And he gave it freely. Without question. Without hesitation.

Chapter Text

Date: July 31, 2015 3:04:03PM JST

Divergence: 1.048561 (Steins Gate)

“Don’t you think you’re overdoing it a little, Chris-chan?” 

The concerned voice of Mayuri Shiina called out to Kurisu as she wrote on the whiteboard within the apartment room that housed the Future Gadget Laboratory — the very same room that’s housed it since she was first invited to join in 2010. A couple days removed from her 23rd birthday, she was beginning to reach the end of her wits. As evidence? A grand list of names that she had been working on for two hours straight while Okabe went out with Daru to God-knows-where.

“I don’t feel like I’m doing enough,” Kurisu scratched her chin, dry-erase marker still in hand. “Rintaro has settled on using ‘my love’ as his pet name for me, and I’m still unable to come up with a satisfying one for him.”

The whiteboard was a list of pet names ranging from super cutesy to deranged: darling, dear, babe, bro, homie, dumbass, sweetheart, honey, buddy, goblin king. Yet, in that list of names, Kurisu kept crossing and uncrossing the words on the board, unable to come to a decision on what name to drop and what to keep. She tried to keep it casual with “bro” and “buddy”, yet it just sounded weird coming out of her mouth; then she tried to lean into her more mean-spirited side with “dumbass”, but she didn’t want him to think she hated him or anything; and the only nice words that worked well, but not enough to be a common thing were just “darling” and “dear”.

“Don’t you feel like a pet name should come from the heart?” Mayuri stared at the board, a bead of sweat forming as she looked at some of the more explicit names that were permanently crossed off the list. “Mayushii’s sure that’s how Okarin was able to come up with ‘my love’.”

Kurisu turned to the person she trusted as a partner during this process of name-selection. Mayuri was now 21-years-old and still retained some of her relatively-childish tendencies only because of her current job as an after-school teacher at Ikebukuro Elementary School — though they were currently on summer break. The same was said for Okabe who just completed his first full year in his Master’s program at Viktor Chondria University. Kurisu, on the other hand, who was now a full-fledged neuroscientist within Viktor Chondria’s Neuroscience Institute, needed a proper excuse to simply spend time in Japan that didn’t involve the PTO she already used up. 

Thankfully (and unfortunately) for her, Professor Leskinen volunteered her for a seminar that he was supposed to present over the course of a couple weeks at the Tokyo International Forum. The Professor used these seminars as opportunities to try and learn of potential ways to bring the newly-rebuilt Amadeus to a presentable state, but they’d had no luck on that front for the past few years. The only two silver linings were that she could spend time with Okabe and the rest of the lab, and that the seminar was twice-per-week for a month.

Mayuri had grown more beautiful in Kurisu’s eyes — she could no longer be viewed as the cute girl that Kurisu met in 2010. She’d grown a little bit taller, her face had grown much softer, and her hair — while still retaining the same length — seemed like it was put together in a more elegant way that Kurisu couldn’t exactly define. However, with that growth, the source of Kurisu’s envy made itself a tiny bit more apparent, so she did her very best to not let her eyes linger any lower than Mayuri’s shoulders lest she get jealous for absolutely no good reason.

That wasn’t to say that Kurisu hadn’t changed either. She also cut her own hair a year ago to a shoulder-length level after a couple of comments by Okabe that suggested he wanted to see her in that style. She tried her damndest to keep the haircut a secret until he officially moved to America. 

She recalled his first day when she picked him up at the airport, the eyes of adoration and gleeful praise that he heaped on her made her so red, but so happy nonetheless. It was one of the few times he was ever nice to her in public so she had to preserve every aspect of that specific memory just in case that kind of thing never happened again. 

On top of that, she’d changed out her wardrobe to be a little more casual now that she knew everyone. Out were the shorts and dress-shirts, and in were the skirts and blouses. The person who complimented her most for her wardrobe evolution was Hashida in a manner that felt less like genuine compliments and more like leery comments — and that guy already had a girlfriend so it peeved her even more.

“I… I just don’t want to weird him out or anything,” Kurisu put the marker up to her lips. “It’s best to brainstorm these kinds of things to make that not happen.”

“Chris-chan, you know who you’re talking about, right?” Mayuri giggled. “Mayushii would be impressed if you managed to weird Okarin out.”

Kurisu couldn’t help smiling at Mayuri’s words. As his childhood friend, she had just about as much insight into Okabe’s state of mind as Kurisu did as his partner. However, her smile quickly turned into a frown and pursed lips, her eyes still parsing over the whiteboard over and over again in search for of an answer.

There was one occasion where Kurisu tried to use “baby” as an off-the-cuff pet name for Okabe — this occasion being the year before when he complimented her on her haircut. The moment she said, “Thank you, baby,” she regretted it immediately. Okabe, switching gears from complimenting her to embarrassing her, decided to go on-and-on about her word choice, accusing her of having some Freudian obsession with him and that she was some sort of pervert for infantilizing him — making “googoo gaga” sounds at her while he was at it. 

While the mission was to pick him up and while she did cherish just how special he made her feel for her haircut, only Okabe was capable of turning a 100% success rate into a critical failure as she turned tail and wordlessly abandoned him at the airport. 

The only nicety she afforded him was sending him a text with her address so that he could order an Oober.

Mayuri tilted her head, watching as Kurisu tapped her marker against her lips like she was trying to coax a theorem out of thin air. The scientist’s brows were furrowed, her posture tense, as if the very fate of her relationship depended on finding the perfect syllables.

“Chris-chan…” Mayuri’s voice came soft, like the way she might speak to a tearful first-grader. “Maybe you’re being a little too hard on yourself.”

Kurisu didn’t glance up. Her eyes were still locked onto the mess of names and crossed-out attempts on the whiteboard. “If I don’t think this through properly, I’ll blurt out something weird again. And then he’ll make a whole scene about it.” She sighed. “Like he always does.”

She turned slightly, the hem of her blouse shifting as she leaned one hip against the couch, arms now crossed tight over her stomach like she was physically holding in her frustration. Her fingers gripped her elbow. Too tightly.

“If I call him something dumb, he’ll just twist it into some deranged inside joke and I’ll never live it down. Again.”

Mayuri walked over quietly, her footfalls soft on the wooden floor. She reached up and gently pried the marker from Kurisu’s hand. The red cap made a small pop as it clicked against her palm. Kurisu blinked, startled, then watched in silence as Mayuri tucked the marker behind her back.

“Chris-chan,” Mayuri said again, slower this time. “Pet names aren’t tests. They’re not supposed to be… scary.”

Kurisu’s mouth opened to argue — then closed again. She felt something stir in her chest. Embarrassment? Annoyance? No, it was that awful, floaty ache that came whenever someone hit a truth she’d been avoiding.

Mayuri smiled up at her, the same way she smiled at her students when they messed up their math or dropped their pencils during spelling.

“They’re just little ways to say, ‘You’re special to me,’” she continued gently. “They don’t have to be perfect. They just have to be you. ”

Kurisu swallowed. Her throat felt tight. She looked down at the floor, then at the board again — her fortress of logic, made unstable by the very feelings she kept trying to quantify.

“I don’t know what’s me,” she admitted in a low voice. “Not when it comes to this stuff. He always makes it look so effortless. Like he’s not afraid of saying something dumb.”

She bit her bottom lip and glanced toward Mayuri. “It’s not fair. I’m the one who’s supposed to be composed. Rational. But every time he says something mushy, I feel like my heart’s going to—”

She cut herself off, face reddening.

Mayuri giggled, but it wasn’t mocking. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, Chris-chan.”

Kurisu groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true,” Mayuri said. She brought the marker back around and offered it, gently nudging it into Kurisu’s palm. “You don’t have to sound like him. You just have to sound like you.”

Kurisu took the marker but didn’t move. Her fingers curled around it absently. “Everything I say to him sounds like a snarky retort. That’s apparently my love language. Sarcasm.”

Mayuri giggled again and reached up to pat Kurisu’s head. “Then pick something that sounds like your version of ‘sweet.’ Not what the internet says, not what romance movies say.”

Kurisu didn’t respond right away. Her eyes lingered on the board, where “goblin king” and “homie” stood as a testament to her descent into desperation. The only thing missing was a drawing of a crying chibi.

“Maybe…” Mayuri began slowly, a little hesitantly. “Maybe you don’t need to come up with something new.”

Kurisu turned her head slightly, curious. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” Mayuri gave a small sway of her body. “You already say his name in a special way. You might not notice it, but Mayushii does.”

Kurisu raised an eyebrow.

“You say ‘Rintaro’ like you’re choosing every syllable” Mayuri explained, her voice still soft and warm. “Like you’re afraid of dropping it.”

Kurisu blinked. Her lips parted, but nothing came out.

She did do that, didn’t she? She said his name like it meant more. Like it carried the weight of everything they’d survived together — from their strange first meeting after he saved her to the complicated now.

“‘Okarin’ might sound silly to you,” Mayuri went on. “But… it’s a happy word. You don’t have to copy it, Chris-chan. You can make it yours.”

Kurisu’s heart thudded once, harder than she expected.

She had never seriously considered using that name. It felt like part of Mayuri’s territory — a piece of Okabe’s past that didn’t belong to her. But now, hearing it in this context, she realized it had always hovered on the edge of her vocabulary. Like a word waiting to be spoken by someone who had finally earned it.

Kurisu stared at the whiteboard, though her eyes weren’t focused on anything in particular. The marker twirled slowly between her fingers, the soft clicks of plastic breaking the silence. Her shoulders had slumped at some point, but she didn’t notice.

“I don’t know if I can say it,” she murmured.

Mayuri tilted her head gently, stepping a little closer. “What do you mean, Chris-chan?”

Kurisu didn’t answer right away. Her fingers tightened around the marker.

“That name,” she finally said. “ Okarin. ”

She glanced at Mayuri for a moment, then looked back at the board, as if it might offer an answer she hadn’t seen before.

“It’s yours. And Hashida’s. You two say it like it’s second nature.”

Mayurii stayed quiet, waiting for her to finish.

Kurisu let out a breath. “It feels like it belongs to you… like something I’d be taking if I tried to use it.”

Mayuri’s lips parted just a little in surprise. “But Daru-kun’s only known Okarin since high school, you know. Since their last year.”

Kurisu blinked. “Seriously?”

“Mhm.” Mayuri gave a small nod. “He didn’t even know Okarin before they were seventeen.”

Kurisu frowned slightly. “But he uses that name all the time. I just figured they’d been friends since forever.”

Mayuri rocked a little on her heels, her tone still gentle. “Mayushii’s known Okarin since we were little, but that doesn’t mean only old friends can call him that.”

Kurisu looked down, her arms folding tight across her chest. “I just… I thought you had to be part of that history to use something like that. Like if I said it, it’d sound like I was pretending.”

Mayuri tilted her head again, expression softening. “Chris-chan, it’s not a history book. It’s just a name.”

Kurisu didn’t speak. Mayuri stepped closer, until she was standing just to Kurisu’s side. She didn’t touch her, but her voice was the kind that didn’t need contact to be comforting.

“You’re not borrowing anything,” she said. “You’re part of his story too. You’ve been part of it for a long time now.”

Kurisu hesitated. “But I didn’t know him back then. Not like you did.”

Mayuri nodded slowly. “That’s true. But Chris-chan knows him now. The version of Okarin who’s trying really hard to smile more. The one who doesn’t always pretend to be strong because he feels like he has to.”

Kurisu’s breath caught a little.

“That’s not the Okarin from before,” Mayuri added. “That’s the one you helped him become.”

Kurisu looked away, blinking faster than normal. Her voice dropped a little. “I thought calling him that would feel fake coming from me. Like I’m not allowed to say it.”

Mayuri shook her head. “You’re his girlfriend, Chris-chan. That makes it more than okay.”

There was no teasing in her tone. Just quiet confidence. Like it was obvious.

Kurisu didn’t know what to say. Something in her chest shifted — some invisible boundary she’d drawn around herself just... moved.

Mayuri offered a little smile. “You don’t have to call him that all the time. But if you want to, Mayushii thinks it would make him really happy.”

Kurisu laughed under her breath. “Yeah. Probably too happy.”

“Maybe just the right amount,” Mayuri replied with a giggle.

Kurisu stared down at the marker again. It wasn’t much. Just a little capped stick of plastic. But her fingers wrapped around it like she was holding something important.

“...You really think I could make it mine?” she asked.

Mayuri nodded. “Mayushii already thinks it is. You’re just the last one who hasn’t noticed.”

Kurisu stared at the whiteboard, though her eyes had long since glazed over. The marker rested loosely in her hand now, her thumb rubbing the edge of the cap in small circles.

Mayuri’s voice drifted in gently beside her. “Want to try it, Chris-chan?”

Kurisu didn't answer immediately. She shifted slightly, posture stiff. “It’s going to sound weird.”

“That’s okay,” Mayuri said, her smile soft and patient. “Mayushii won’t laugh. Promise.”

Kurisu swallowed. Her throat felt tight, like the word was caught somewhere in her chest. She turned toward the window, her reflection faint in the glass — just a pale outline with short auburn hair and a furrowed brow.

She took a breath.

“…Oka…rin.”

It came out clipped. Measured. Like she was testing the temperature of the syllables before stepping in. She winced a little.

Mayuri’s voice chimed in immediately. “That was so good!”

Kurisu scoffed under her breath. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Yes, it was,” Mayuri said, completely sincere. “You said it like someone who loves him.”

Kurisu pressed her lips together. She didn’t feel like she’d said it with love. She’d said it with hesitation. Like she was wearing someone else’s coat — warm, but not hers.

“That’s such a Mayuri thing to say,” she muttered.

Mayuri giggled, nodding. “Because it’s true.”

Kurisu glanced at the marker again. She tightened her grip, the plastic clicking softly in her hand. She tried again.

“Okarin.”

Longer this time. A bit more natural, but still uncertain. It felt too soft on her tongue — not like something she would say. It lacked the sharpness she usually relied on to keep her feelings hidden.

“Even better!” Mayuri clapped her hands quietly, as if encouraging a student reading aloud. “You’re really good at this!”

Kurisu raised a brow. “It still doesn’t sound like me.”

“It sounds like the part of you he sees,” Mayuri said with a little tilt of her head. “You just don’t hear it yet.”

Kurisu blinked at that. She turned back to the board, trying again.

“…Okarin.”

The vowel stretch landed differently. She could hear it now — a slight uptick in the middle, a softness in the finish. It still didn’t feel like hers, not quite. But it didn’t feel like she was borrowing it either. Not anymore.

“You’re getting really good,” Mayuri whispered.

Kurisu looked at the door.

“Okarin.”

A little firmer. More confident. That’s when the doorknob clicked.

It all happened in a second: the twist of the handle, the squeak of the hinges, the gust of hallway air that followed the sound of rushed footsteps towards the top of the stairs.

“And so I have returned from the boundary of chaos!” Okabe’s voice burst into the room, far too proud for someone carrying a half-crushed convenience store bag.

He stopped cold at the top of the lab’s steps. Kurisu stood perfectly still, facing the doorway, wide-eyed.

“…Okarin,” she finished again — too late to stop it, too early to play it off.

There was a beat of silence. Mayuri’s hands flew up to her mouth in delighted horror. Okabe blinked.

“…Did you just—”

Kurisu, cheeks flaming, tightened her grip on the marker like she was considering using it as a weapon.

Okabe didn’t speak. His fingers twitched around the plastic bag’s handles. His gaze flicked to Kurisu, then to Mayuri, then back to Kurisu — quick, nervous movements. His posture faltered for a breath before straightening again, a little too sharply.

“Don’t!” Kurisu protested, pointing the marker at him.

Then, as if jolted by an internal switch, he turned on his heel and dug into his labcoat pocket with a flourish that was just a beat too dramatic.

He pulled out his phone with trembling finesse, and pressed it to his ear like a lifeline.

“…It’s me,” he said, lowering his voice into a theatrical gravel. “We have a situation.”

Kurisu blinked. “Oh no. No, don’t you dare.”

“She said it,” Okabe muttered, already pacing. He walked three short steps forward, then spun in a semicircle back toward the stairwell, nearly tripping but recovering with a pivot that almost looked intentional.

“The Assistant…” he continued, one hand raised now for emphasis “The Assistant has activated the forbidden designation. The one sealed away since the foundation of the lab. I don’t know how she recovered it.”

He shot a quick glance at Kurisu, who looked mortified. Her fists clenched at her sides.

Mayuri stifled a giggle.

“I ask you,” Okabe said into the phone, turning again, his pacing now erratic. “Is this the work of electromagnetic interference? Has the heat cooked her frontal cortex? The name — Okarin — escaped her lips as if it belonged to her.”

His steps faltered. He held the phone tighter.

Kurisu groaned, pressing both hands to her face. “Why are you like this?”

“She has forgotten my name,” Okabe whispered. “Forgotten that I am Hououin Kyouma. The mad scientist responsible for the collapse of the world’s ruling structure.”

His voice cracked ever so slightly on mad scientist , and he immediately cleared his throat, brushing his bangs from his face with an exaggerated flick.

Kurisu pointed a trembling hand at him. “Y-You were standing in the doorway for five seconds trying not to combust!”

“That’s called data processing, ” Okabe said, waving her off, but his ears were visibly red now. “I was filtering the shock through the Organization’s encryption algorithm that I hacked for myself.”

“Your ears are pink!”

“That is a coincidence! ”

“She got to you, ” Mayuri chimed in, absolutely gleeful. “He’s trying so hard not to smile!”

“I AM NOT SMILING.”

Okabe huffed, then turned toward the window, phone still to his ear, and faced the street like a man preparing to jump from the fourth wall.

“I must initiate identity reassertion protocols,” he said stiffly. “If this continues, she may begin calling me Rin-tan. I must preemptively contain the spread.”

Kurisu looked like she wanted to sink through the floor. “I hate that you’re good at this.”

“She’s spiraling,” Okabe said to no one, one hand on the window frame as if needing the support. “Psychic damage sustained. Brainwaves compromised. We may have lost her. I will report back on the outcome of the mission of her recovery. El Psy Kongroo.”

He dropped the phone back into his pocket with practiced flair, then stood in theatrical silence, one foot crossed behind the other, trying very hard to look composed.

He turned around again, adjusting his coat’s lapel avoiding her eyes.

Kurisu’s voice was shaky with fury. “You are so infuriating. ”

“I am in sane, ” he corrected, lips twitching.

“Insane ly stupid!”

She launched the marker at his chest. He dodged it by flinching too early, then pretended it hadn’t missed.

“I knew this would happen!” Kurisu snapped, turning on Mayuri. “I knew if I said it once — once! — he’d make a federal case out of it!”

“But Chris-chan,” Mayuri said through her giggles. “It was so cute!”

Okabe, meanwhile, had finally started to lower himself to pick up the bags he dropped — only to rise again at the sight of Kurisu turning towards him again.

“She said it with her real voice, ” he said under his breath. “That’s why it was dangerous.”

“ I was practicing! ” Kurisu shouted. “It wasn’t meant for you to hear!”

Okabe didn’t respond. He was looking anywhere but at her now. His hand fidgeted with his coat sleeve.

“…But you did,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

He scratched the back of his head.

“I… yeah.”

A beat passed. His bravado thinned.

“For what it’s worth…” he said, voice quieter now, “I thought it sounded nice.”

Kurisu stiffened. Then, without turning around, she hissed, “Shut up.”

Silence hung in the lab, thick and charged. Kurisu glared at the floor. Okabe busied himself with smoothing down his coat sleeve like it was vital to national security. Mayuri, now standing, watched them with the calm determination of someone used to managing children who don’t realize they’re children.

She clapped her hands once, gently but firmly.

“Okay!” she said with a cheerful rise. “Now that everyone’s said what they really feel—”

“I didn’t say anything, ” Kurisu snapped.

Mayuri continued, undeterred. “—there’s just one last thing to do.”

She pointed to Kurisu. “You say ‘Okarin.’”

Then to Okabe. “And you say ‘my love.’”

A sharp silence followed. Kurisu blinked at her like she’d been asked to recite ancient Greek poetry naked.

Okabe lifted a hand in formal objection. “This sort of verbal exchange must be initiated under ideal narrative conditions. With the proper music. Candlelight. Possibly a storm outside.”

“Mayushii thinks the conditions are perfect as they are now,” Mayuri said, her voice still gentle, but with the edge of someone who’d seen a thousand excuses and wasn’t accepting one more. “So here’s the deal: if you don’t say them, Mayushii will make you both wear matching Alpacaman hats to Comima this year. In public. For pictures.”

Kurisu looked genuinely horrified. “You wouldn’t.”

Mayuri smiled sweetly. “I would.”

“Is that even allowed in society—?”

“Matching. Alpacaman. Hats.” Mayuri repeated, folding her arms like an unmovable block of cheerful consequence.

Kurisu turned toward Okabe with a look of exasperation so layered it could’ve been a thesis. “Fine. Just get it over with.”

“You first,” Okabe very quickly volunteered Kurisu for the task.

“No, you first—!”

He scoffed. “No, you first. The breach originated with you.”

“Unbelievable—”

Mayuri cleared her throat.

Kurisu inhaled, her heart ready to beat out of her chest.

“…Okarin.”

It barely escaped her throat — soft, careful, spoken with the same kind of bracing instinct one might use when stepping into a cold shower. Her fingers twitched at her sides. Her shoulders tensed. Her face, already warm, flared red as the syllables slipped into the air between them like a secret she hadn’t meant to share.

She didn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe. The silence that followed was deafening.

Okabe’s lips parted slightly. For once, no smirk followed. No loud declaration. No grand, sweeping gesture. His posture shifted into something smaller, more reserved, like he was trying not to break whatever delicate thing had just passed between them.

Then he stepped forward. Only a little.

“My love,” he said.

It was a bit too formal, a little stiff, but said with care — like the phrase had weight, and he was trying not to drop it. He wasn’t performing. He was offering.

Kurisu stared at him, eyes wide, unsure if she was relieved or completely unspooled. Her ears rang with the rush of her pulse. She could feel every inch of her own skin — the way her hands curled and uncurled, the faint twitch in her neck, the warmth blooming in her chest like a blush that didn’t know where to stop.

The room went still. But this time, the silence didn’t feel oppressive. It felt settled. Like something had landed after circling for far too long.

She felt it drape across her shoulders like something real. Not a weight, but the absence of one. Her heart began to slow. Her hands loosened their grip.

Her chest ached — not from panic, but release. The kind that comes after bracing too hard for too long.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Her cheeks still burned. The embarrassment was still there, but it no longer felt like something she had to escape. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to say it again without turning crimson. But she didn’t want to take it back.

Because he’d heard it. He’d said it back. And somehow, it felt right.

Behind them, Mayuri didn’t say a word. She simply stood where she was, hands folded in front of her, her weight tilted slightly to one side. Her head was tilted too, just a little — and the small, satisfied smile on her face said everything she needed to. The kind of smile that only came when a lesson had been learned without needing to be graded.

Date: November 22, 2036 4:02:12AM PST

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

The halls of Viktor Chondria were still asleep, dim and sterile under a grid of motion-activated lights that flickered on just ahead of the Okabes, then blinked out behind like they were erasing their path as they moved.

Kurisu walked with her hands tucked into her sleeves, her shoulders relaxed but not loose, her breathing measured. The tightness that had clung to her for a week had not vanished — but it had shifted. It no longer sat behind her ribs, raw and wordless. She had cried. He had held her. They had stood on the edge of everything they feared, and for once, neither of them had stepped away.

Beside her, Okabe felt every quiet footfall on polished floors vibrate deep inside his chest. He studied Kurisu from the corner of his eye, catching glimpses of her profile cast pale and sharp beneath the sterile lights. Even now, after everything, her resolve was something he admired—something he envied.

His own chest was a knot, tightening with every step. Their quiet breaths, the gentle rhythm of their footsteps — it all felt impossibly loud in the silence. This was it: the last quiet moment before they stepped into the unknown.

He swallowed against the dryness in his throat, his heart hammering beneath his ribs. The night before still lingered vividly, tense and uncertain, imprinted in Okabe’s memory with perfect clarity. When he and Kurisu had finally descended from the rooftop, they found the everyone waiting patiently in the quiet of the living room. Suzuha and the children had joined them, sitting forward attentively, unaware of the weight of what was about to be revealed to her.

Until that moment, Okabe had nearly forgotten that Suzuha alone among them remained ignorant of his condition. For everyone else — Daru, Yuki, Reina, Haruki — the situation was already painfully clear. But to Suzuha, it had been entirely new territory. He remembered how her expression had barely shifted as he explained that he possessed none of the memories belonging to this worldline; that in every meaningful sense, he was an outsider.

Her calm reaction had caught him off-guard. Instead of shock or confusion, she'd shown curiosity, analytical and direct, as she immediately began to dissect the issue from a practical standpoint. Her questions were precise, focused on logistics, on the technicalities of memory integration, and the nature of the risks involved. Okabe recognized in her the visage of the pragmatic engineer she was becoming, shaped by a peaceful life rather than a battlefield.

It was strange, he reflected, how clearly the differences between this Suzuha and the one he'd known stood out now. In the Beta Worldline, Suzuha had always carried an underlying intensity born from a lifetime spent fighting to survive. She had been burdened by war and loss, desperation woven into every movement. Yet here, she carried none of that heaviness. Her gaze was steady, not haunted; her voice level, not strained.

Still, Okabe found himself missing that earlier Suzuha’s unspoken understanding. Here, in the Steins Gate Worldline, their bond had never fully formed — never needed to. She had cousins in Haruki and Reina to dote upon and parents who guided her gently. He and Kurisu had moved across an ocean, existing mostly as distant, familiar names who were parents to those cousins rather than integral parts of her upbringing. It left him feeling oddly isolated, even within a circle of those closest to him. He was known yet unknown for different sorts of reasons.

This sensation of perpetual displacement was exactly why they had chosen the quiet hours before dawn for the memory merger. Yuki had been the one to suggest it gently, her voice filled with cautious compassion. Doing it now meant privacy, freedom from questions, and the chance to quietly steady themselves afterward. It was also strategic: Mayuri’s imminent arrival later that morning meant there was limited time left to prepare. She would bring warmth and care — but also curiosity and concern. Better to confront the memory merger now so as to not worry Mayuri or the rest of the lab any more than they needed to be.

Now, as they walked quietly through the sterile corridors toward the Amadeus Control Room, Okabe felt his anxiety mounting once again, sharpened by the stark silence around them. He glanced again at Kurisu, reassured by the calm determination in her expression even as his own thoughts spiraled with uncertainty.

The desperation to finally be whole, to share the same history as those he loved, pushed him forward. Yet alongside it, fear lingered, whispering quietly of failure, of further loss. Okabe took a shaky breath and forced himself onward, following closely behind Kurisu as she flashed her ID badge at the door to the control room and entered the still-lit room.

The Amadeus Control Room was still brightly lit, screens softly glowing with streams of complex neural data and meticulously arranged coding sequences, immediately making it clear why the lights had never dimmed overnight. At the heart of the room, Maho sat hunched forward at the central terminal, eyes wide and glassy with fatigue, her fingers flying across the keyboard in a caffeine-driven frenzy. Around her lay a cluttered assortment of empty energy drink cans, stacked precariously, a testament to another all-night battle against exhaustion.

She spun around at the sound of the opening door, blinking rapidly to clear the fog from her vision. Dark shadows lined her eyes, and her hair, tied loosely into a chaotic ponytail, revealed the full measure of the long night she’d spent working.

Kurisu paused, a note of immediate concern softening her voice. “Senpai, did you stay here all night again?”

Maho’s response came sharply, impatiently waving off her worry. “Of course I did. There was no way I could sleep, knowing you two were planning to show up at some ungodly hour.”

Okabe approached, deliberately stepping around the towers of discarded cans with exaggerated caution. “Exactly how many of these did you drink? At some point, I think this qualifies as a chemical dependency.”

Maho shot him a pointed glare, clearly not amused by his commentary. “Don’t start with me, Okarin-san. After what I've had to put up with tonight, you’re the last thing I need right now.”

Okabe raised an eyebrow, testing just how far her patience stretched. “I'm hurt, Maho. And here I was planning to recommend you as a spokesperson for energy drinks. You've clearly become their most loyal customer.”

Maho leaned back in her chair, fixing him with a weary but razor-sharp stare. “Keep it up and I’ll have you test my next experimental formula. Let’s see how long your sarcasm survives with an accelerated heart rate.”

Kurisu stifled a laugh behind her hand, stepping forward to gently intervene. “Alright, you two. Senpai, jokes aside, are you sure you're feeling alright? We can’t have you collapsing in the middle of the procedure.”

Maho’s expression softened slightly, meeting Kurisu’s genuine concern with a reassuring nod. “Trust me, Kurisu, I'm fine.” She gestured toward the main screen, her voice turning serious again. “Besides, this was worth losing sleep over. Take a look at what kept me awake.”

Kurisu leaned closer, eyes darting across the intricate formula displayed prominently on the monitor. Her expression shifted swiftly, from skepticism to intense concentration. After several tense moments, her shoulders visibly relaxed, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. “It’s flawless. You fixed every last inconsistency.”

“Of course,” Maho replied, allowing herself a rare moment of pride. “Did you really expect less from your senpai?”

Okabe folded his arms, smiling softly, his anxiety momentarily subdued by their banter. Despite her exhaustion, Maho remained fiercely capable, anchoring their last hope for resolution. His gaze drifted again toward the awaiting headset, chest tightening with renewed tension.

Okabe stared at the headset resting silently beside the terminal, its array of sensors faintly gleaming under the artificial lights. He had studied the process meticulously alongside Kurisu and Maho as he was being treated for his PTSD, yet even now, the mechanics behind what they were about to attempt felt unsettling. The simplicity masked a deep complexity that stirred unease within him.

Direct merging of memories within the Amadeus system itself was strictly prohibited, prevented by sophisticated security measures built directly into its AI framework. Regulations inspired by HIPAA laws, adapted specifically for artificial intelligence, had ensured no memory data stored within Amadeus could ever be merged or manipulated internally. Such precautions existed to protect personal memories, preventing any accidental exposure or unethical misuse of sensitive, deeply personal information. Unfortunately, when Okabe uploaded his current consciousness to the system, his neural patterns were unique enough to be considered a different person entirely from his former self.

To navigate these limitations, Maho and Kurisu had developed an external solution using a neural interface headset similar in design to the Time Leap Machine Okabe had once known intimately. Instead of transferring consciousness backward in time, however, this neural interface would instantly fold the memories of his Steins Gate self contained within Amadeus directly into his current consciousness.

The method itself was a careful semi-overwrite. Rather than completely replacing his existing memories, this procedure allowed the two sets to coexist, intertwining seamlessly. His lived experiences from the Beta Worldline would remain intact, preserving his identity as he currently understood it, but simultaneously integrating the memories of Steins Gate. The intention was harmony, two distinct but related sets of memories woven together without one entirely overriding the other.

But memories shaped personality, informed behaviors, and influenced emotional responses. Okabe’s anxiety rose sharply as he considered the implications. Could merging these two vastly different sets of experiences alter him fundamentally? Would his thoughts, decisions, even his feelings about the people closest to him shift subtly or dramatically as new memories took root?

He glanced toward Kurisu again, finding strength in the calm confidence of her expression. She trusted fully that the procedure wouldn’t alter the core of who he was. Yet, Okabe wondered silently if even she could know that for certain. Could the merging of two entirely separate histories, two different lifetimes, leave him unchanged at the most basic levels?

Okabe exhaled deeply, working to quiet the swirl of anxieties still roiling within him. He turned toward Kurisu again, eyes earnest as he sought reassurance.

“Explain it to me again,” he said quietly. It wasn't about clarification — he already understood the risks, the implications — but rather, he wanted to ground himself in her voice, in her calm certainty.

Kurisu nodded gently, sensing the underlying need behind his request. “The memory merger is a targeted neural integration. Picture each set of memories as two separate stacks of paper — your current memories and the memories stored in Amadeus. Each stack tells a coherent, self-contained story.”

She paused briefly, gathering her words with care. “We’re not removing or rewriting pages from either stack individually. Instead, we’re interweaving them carefully. The memories themselves remain unchanged, but once combined, the context — the narrative they form — becomes something new. Together, these experiences create meaning and perspective you’ve never had before.”

Okabe gave a slow, understanding nod. “And that’s exactly the issue,” he murmured, voice low with thoughtful caution. “If memories shape personality, then by changing the context, by combining these two lifetimes, I might come out of this as someone subtly new. Not entirely me, not entirely what came before. Someone else.”

Kurisu met his gaze steadily, acknowledging the depth of his awareness. “You’re right, Okarin. It’s not just about adding memories. It’s about how the interplay of these memories shapes you afterward. You may emerge from this different, changed in ways we can't fully anticipate.”

Okabe’s expression softened slightly, comforted by her frank honesty. He had always known the potential repercussions, understood that the act of merging these memories could lead to someone he had yet to meet — a version of himself who carried the weight of two worlds, two lives.

Yet the alternative — living forever incomplete, fragmented, a man displaced from his own existence — felt even more daunting.

Okabe exhaled again, this time with greater certainty. “I understand,” he said quietly, ready to accept whatever self awaited him on the other side. “I’m ready.”

With deliberate care, Okabe picked up the neural interface headset, its sensors cool against his fingertips. His pulse quickened as he gently placed it onto his head, adjusting it until he felt the electrodes press softly against his temples. The headset's pressure was strangely reassuring, a tangible connection to the leap he was about to take.

Maho leaned toward the terminal again, fingers hovering over the keys, her eyes sharply focused. “I'm initiating your memory backup now, Okarin-san,” she announced steadily. “If anything goes wrong, we can restore you to exactly this point.”

Okabe gave a small nod, grateful for this last safety net. He glanced at Kurisu one more time, catching her steady gaze. Her eyes held an unspoken promise — trust that no matter what happened, they would face it together.

“Backup complete,” Maho confirmed, exhaling softly. She glanced to Kurisu, waiting for her final acknowledgment. Kurisu nodded once.

“Ready, Okarin?” she asked quietly.

He forced himself to breathe evenly, calming the storm of uncertainty that surged briefly in his chest. “Ready,” he replied firmly.

Maho placed her fingers carefully on the keyboard, taking a deep breath as she activated the merger protocol. For a brief moment, everything felt normal — the gentle hum of machinery, the faint, reassuring glow of screens.

The headset rested firmly on Okabe’s head, its sensors pressing coolly against his temples. He closed his eyes briefly, bracing for the static rush that he remembered from past time leaps. Instead, the interface sparked violently to life, sending an abrupt pulse of pain jolting deep into the base of his skull. He gasped, gripping the chair’s armrests as his body stiffened in shock.

Something was terribly wrong.

Through blurred vision, he could just make out Kurisu’s frantic movements, her eyes wide with panic, her voice distorted, distant. 

“—Senpai! The temporal gap—!”

The words echoed strangely, distorted by the fierce rush of unwanted memories. But something in Kurisu’s voice triggered immediate understanding. An earlier memory emerged among the rest — the hippocampal rejection that Kurisu theorized when deciding the 48-hour limit for the Time Leap Machine was no longer just theoretical — it was happening. His brain fought furiously to repel memories separated by decades, too alien to absorb.

“Senpai, shut it down. Now!”

“I’m on it!” Maho shouted back frantically. Her fingers raced across the terminal, initiating the emergency shutdown protocol. The alarms instantly silenced, and the screens flashed briefly, the red warnings replaced by the calm, green glow of standby status.

But it didn’t matter.

Everything had already happened. In that singular, infinitesimal moment, the flood of memories had surged irreversibly into his mind. Okabe felt consciousness slipping rapidly, overwhelmed by scenes of a life that wasn't his — birthdays, holidays, quiet evenings with Kurisu and their children — all cascading inward at once.

He remembered conversations he had never held, birthdays he’d never celebrated, arguments he’d never endured. Every moment rushed into him at once — twenty-six years of shared life on the Steins Gate Worldline, impossibly condensed into a single, unbearable instant.

His mind buckled beneath the weight, frantically attempting to reject the sheer enormity of it. He desperately clawed inward, trying to stem the tide of images and sensations battering against him.

As the darkness pressed closer, he heard Kurisu’s voice again, confusion mixed with desperate urgency.

“Senpai, look here — there should've been a system warning beforehand. The merger shouldn't have even initiated. Why didn’t we see it?”

Maho’s voice grew sharp, bewildered. “We didn't see it because it never appeared. The safety warning was manually bypassed. Someone deliberately ignored the critical analysis that should've blocked the merger from starting.”

Kurisu’s stunned realization hit Okabe just as the memories began dragging him further into unconsciousness.

Their voices receded, swallowed by an enveloping darkness. Okabe’s last, flickering thought before succumbing completely was a quiet, terrible understanding:

Someone had intentionally chosen this path for him — and now, it was too late to turn back.

Date: ???

Divergence: ??????

Okabe opened his eyes to the dull buzz of a fluorescent light overhead. The ceiling above him was familiar—worn, slightly stained, just as it had always looked in the Future Gadget Lab. He lay on the threadbare couch, a faint chill clinging to his skin like static.

His mind fought to orient itself. Where was he? The name surfaced slowly.

Akihabara.

His arms felt lighter, smaller. The weight of time that had once bent his shoulders felt absent now, as though someone had taken it from him without warning.

He sat up, glancing down at his hands. They looked younger. So did the coat hanging from his shoulders. So did he.

A sharp breath escaped him as he scanned the lab. It was just as he remembered — or at least thought he remembered. But something was wrong. The colors were muted. The warmth that usually radiated from the cluttered space had vanished. No PC fan whirred in the background. No glow flowed in from the sunny day outside the curtains.

And yet… everyone was there.

Seated in a rough circle, the lab members watched him in silence: Mayuri, Daru, Luka, Moeka, Faris, Kurisu, Suzuha, and even Maho. Their eyes were fixed on him, but none of them spoke.

The only sound was the faint hum from the ceiling light. Okabe swallowed hard.

“We now commence the 108th Roundtable Meeting!” he declared, trying for bravado. He spread his arms theatrically, voice bouncing awkwardly off the walls. “I, the truly terrifying Hououin Kyouma, have brought us all together once more to discuss matters of grave, temporal significance!”

No one moved.

He tried again, faltering. “Has the Organization finally silenced you all? Is this what becomes of free thinkers in a world ruled by shadows and lies?”

Still, there was no laughter. No sarcastic comment from Kurisu. No teasing from Mayuri. Not even a grunt from Daru. Their silence pressed in on him.

He turned toward Mayuri, hoping for something — anything — to ground him. A smile, a giggle, a tilt of her head.

Instead, she narrowed her eyes.

“You’re not Hououin Kyouma,” she said.

Her voice wasn’t angry. It was quiet. Measured. And somehow it cut deeper than a scream. It sounded like a verdict.

Okabe froze. The breath caught in his throat. The world around him suddenly felt tilted, just a few degrees off from reality. He tried to laugh, to smile through it, to treat it like one of their elaborate pranks. But no one played along.

“Mayuri… come on,” he said, voice fraying. “That’s not funny. You know it’s me. I’ve always been him.”

“You’re lying,” Luka said softly. His tone held sympathy, but his eyes didn’t.

“You sound like him,” Suzuha added, arms crossed, her posture defensive. “But there’s something missing in your spine. Like you haven’t carried what he carried.”

“Faker,” Faris whispered, curling her arms around her knees. “You’re nyot our Kyouma.”

He stepped back. His throat was bone-dry. The air in the room was no longer cold in the physical sense — it was cold in the way a house felt after something vital had been removed.

This was the lab. This was home. He knew that. But why did it feel like a hollowed-out replica?

None of them smiled. None moved.

Kurisu sat with her hands folded in her lap. Her posture was composed, but there was a quiet edge of concern in the way she watched him. She didn’t look suspicious. She looked like someone trying to understand something difficult.

She parted her lips as if to say his name, then stopped. Her head tilted slightly, eyes never leaving his.

“You’re speaking like him,” she said gently. “But the weight behind your words isn’t reaching them.”

Her voice carried no blame. If anything, it felt like she was offering him a truth he hadn’t quite faced. The others hadn’t turned away because they didn’t recognize him. They had turned away because they couldn’t feel him.

The words settled like a silent collapse inside his chest.

From the corner, Moeka’s voice drifted in — barely above a whisper. “Okabe-kun... isn’t here.”

He looked around again. Familiar faces. Foreign silence. Luka wouldn’t meet his eyes. Faris’s usual spark had dimmed into something that resembled grief. Even Suzuha, always restless, remained disturbingly still, hands locked together in her lap.

Then they began to rise. Not all at once. Not with any urgency. Just rising, slow and inevitable, like a tide coming in.

Maho’s voice followed, quiet and analytical, but touched with something more human. “Tell me something,” she said, almost gently. “What do you really know about us? In this worldline. In this version of the lab.”

Her eyes weren’t accusing — just searching.

“You’re reaching for bonds you don’t remember forming. Reacting to feelings you’ve inherited, not lived. It’s not your fault… but it’s why none of this is holding together.”

Daru spoke last. His voice lacked its usual playfulness, softened into something that sounded like resignation. “You’re here, sure… but it’s like you missed the journey. And without it, nothing feels real.”

Panic bloomed in Okabe’s chest.

“I remember — something,” he insisted, words tumbling from his lips. “I remember all of you. I just—” He drew a ragged breath. “Maybe not the same way you do. But I lived it. I lived something. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Their expressions darkened. Shadows gathered beneath their eyes like bruises surfacing from nowhere. The soft amber glow of the lab dulled to a sickly white. All the small, familiar sounds vanished — leaving behind a silence so thick it seemed to warp the air.

They moved toward him, slowly.

“You’re not my Hikoboshi,” Mayuri said again. No sweetness this time. Just truth.

He stumbled back until his shoulder hit the whiteboard. He reached for it instinctively — searching for scrawled formulas, equations, some proof that this space still held meaning.

But the board was empty. Clean. As if no thoughts had ever lived there.

“You’re the impostor,” Suzuha said through clenched teeth, each word like a hammer blow.

“You never saved her,” Luka muttered, eyes hard.

“You reaped the reward of someone else’s efforts,” Moeka whispered, voice trembling, but her stare unwavering.

Maho’s voice came next, quieter. “It took you too long to get to Steins Gate. And now… the path that he laid out has been completely forgotten by you.”

Okabe turned to her, then to Kurisu.

She hadn’t moved. Her arms were folded across her chest, and yet something about her posture had softened. Her eyes, though still distant, carried no hatred.

“You got here,” she said softly. “But you didn’t walk the road with us. You don’t carry what we carried.”

The words crushed him, one after the other. His legs buckled. His body curled inward. All he wanted was for someone to reach for him, to say his name — not accuse it. Not like this.

“Please,” he whispered.

The shadows reached for him now. Hands. Claws. Tendrils of doubt. Of memory he didn’t have. Of bonds he had never formed. They grasped at his coat, his face, his thoughts. His world closed in. He could feel his identity fracturing, peeling away piece by piece like rotting wallpaper.

Then—

CRACK.

The lab door exploded inward with a force that seemed to shatter the very air. Light poured in from the bottom of the stairwell, not sterile or cold like a hospital lamp, but warm — almost golden. It rushed into the room with the weight of something sacred, sweeping over the frozen figures of the lab members and washing the color out of their eyes. Their movements stopped mid-breath. Mayuri’s fingers froze inches from Okabe’s collar. Kurisu’s lips parted, but no sound came. The judgment, the accusations, the unbearable weight of their disappointment — all of it paused, suspended like ash in amber.

Okabe collapsed to his knees, his ribs heaving. His palms slapped against the cold floor, slick with frost. He could barely feel his fingers. The phantom grip of their betrayal still clung to his throat like invisible claws. The footsteps came next. Measured. Calm. Each one pressing firmly into the silence as they climbed the lab stairs.

He looked up.

The man who stood at the top of the stairs was… him. But not as he was now.

This version stood tall, centered — not bearing the weight of survival, but shaped by a life that hadn’t bent him to the edge. His coat moved with ease, not like armor but like a part of him. His eyes were clear, focused — not dulled by fatigue or fear, but sharpened by understanding.

There was no tremble in his stance. No hesitation in his step. And for a fleeting second, Okabe felt like he was the ghost.

He stepped inside. With each movement, the shadows shrank back. The frozen figures of their friends seemed less real the closer he came, fading like chalk left out in the rain.

Okabe forced himself to stand, slowly. His knees shook.

“You’re me,” he said, voice hoarse.

The other tilted his head. “Roughly speaking.”

“Then what is this?” He gestured around the lab, still echoing with false familiarity. “Why does everything feel… wrong?”

“Because none of it is real,” the other said. “This is a construct. A staging ground. Your mind’s attempt to localize the damage. The system flooded you with twenty-six years of memories in a single moment. Most of them never found anchor. As a result, your consciousness shut down.”

Okabe staggered back a step, overwhelmed by the scope of it. “So this is… a memory? A dream?”

The other frowned, then took another step forward. “Not quite. You’re unconscious, yes. But what we’re standing in now is a shared mental space — your subconsciousness, stretched to its limit, has created a stabilizing environment out of its most familiar architecture: the lab and the labmems.”

“But they turned on me.”

The words left Okabe in a whisper, barely more than breath. He stared into the stillness, trying to find something in the frozen faces of his friends — some glimmer of warmth, recognition, anything that could dull the ache lodged deep in his chest. 

The other him — the one with quieter steps and a stillness that didn’t waver — stood at the top of the stairwell. He didn’t radiate judgment or pity. Only calm. A kind of calm that came from having faced the storm and come out with nothing left to prove.

“They were never really here,” the other said quietly, stepping farther into the room. “Not them. Not exactly. What you saw were echoes — projections shaped by your mind at the moment of collapse. The second the merger began, your hippocampus rejected the flood. The memory transfer was instantaneous. So was the failure.”

Okabe’s hands trembled at his sides. “Why? Everything as it was explained to me made it sound like it should have been a clean transfer. How couldn’t I handle it?

“You couldn’t because you didn’t have the emotional scaffolding to receive it,” the other replied. “You were given a flood of moments that meant everything to someone who lived them… but nothing to someone who didn’t.”

Okabe shook his head, disbelief surging to the surface. “But I know them. All of them. In the Alpha and Beta Worldline, I had that time with Mayuri, with Daru, with Suzuha and Maho... with Kurisu… I didn’t go into that chair a stranger.”

The other Okabe stopped near the whiteboard — still blank and clean, like a mind that had tried to rewrite itself too quickly. His hand hovered in front of it, fingers not quite touching the surface.

“You know them,” he said, “but not like this. The bonds you had were forged in a different world. One shaped by loss and fear and urgency. You knew versions of them who had to fight to survive. Who bore scars that never faded. They were shaped by war — by desperation.”

He turned slowly, meeting Okabe’s gaze.

“But the memories you received weren’t from that world. They were from one where those same people were shaped by peace. Where trust wasn't fought for — it was never lost to begin with. Where grief wasn’t the language between friends. You can’t interlace experiences from one worldline into the body of another when the emotional gravity is entirely different.”

Okabe’s breath caught.

The other Okabe stepped forward again. “It’s not about recognizing faces. Or knowing names. You can memorize the entire script of someone’s life, but if you haven’t lived in the rhythm of their presence — their laughter, their silence, the weight of the moments between you — it won’t take. Your mind sees it for what it is. A story that doesn’t fit the pages it’s printed on.”

The words hit Okabe hard.

“I thought… I thought I was ready.”

The other offered a faint, almost compassionate smile. “You weren’t. And it’s not your fault.”

Okabe turned his eyes back toward the whiteboard, Kurisu’s voice echoing in his memory — gentle, focused, laced with that particular calm she wore whenever she was explaining something impossibly complex in a way that made it feel tangible.

Two stacks of paper. Two separate lives. When interleaved properly, they tell a new story — one richer than either on its own.

He stared at the smooth surface of the board.

"It was such a Kurisu answer," he murmured aloud. “Tidy. Logical. She made it sound like all it took was clean coding and careful sequencing.”

“She meant well,” the other said, voice low. “And her metaphor wasn’t wrong — on a narrative level. She understood memory as information. A sequence of pages, like a manuscript.”

He regarded the whiteboard once more, as if seeing a second, invisible version of the diagram there. With a slow wave of his hand, new lines etched themselves across the surface — faint, glowing, as if memory itself responded to intention rather than ink.

“But she didn’t see what we saw,” he continued. “She didn’t spend years watching how time distorts memory. How context shapes perception. She didn’t see what happens when two versions of a person collapse on top of each other. She never had to live through that.”

Okabe turned slightly, listening as the diagram shifted, reorganizing itself with each word spoken — lines curling inward, mirroring the chaos of layered recollection.

“She thought the paper stacks could be arranged cleanly,” the other said, voice quiet but firm. “She thought you could just align events — ‘this page belongs next to this one, because chronologically they mirror each other.’ But memory isn’t bound by chronology. It’s bound by emotional relevance. The hippocampus doesn't organize our lives like folders in a filing cabinet — it organizes by weight. By how deeply something is felt.”

Behind him, the board glowed faintly — no longer schematic, but organic. Patterns bloomed like synapses firing. Then, as if reaching a quiet conclusion, the image stilled.

He then paced back-and-forth in front of the whiteboard, gesturing now as he spoke — less like a twin and more like a teacher drawing upon years of impossible experience.

“She built a beautiful algorithm for a memory system that assumes neutrality. But you and I both know — there’s no such thing. Not after what we’ve seen.”

“She didn’t factor in the uncertainty of worldline divergence. The state of a uniquely-wired brain when exposed to paradox. She never had to.”

Okabe lowered his head slightly. The shifting light from the board caught in the edges of his coat, casting long, distorted shadows behind him.

“Because she never had to deal with Reading Steiner.”

“She didn’t know how memories re-contextualize everything around them the moment they’re added,” the other continued. As he spoke, the board rewrote itself — segments of the diagram bleeding into one another, connections snapping into place only to immediately fray again. “How a single out-of-place emotional thread — just one memory without context — can corrupt the interpretation of every memory around it. You don't just get garbled recollection. You get a personality collapse. That is Reading Steiner.”

Okabe clenched his fists slowly. The ambient glow intensified for a moment, then dimmed — as if in sync with his spiraling thoughts.

“And even if the stacks could be perfectly interleaved,” the other said finally, turning toward him fully. The symbols on the whiteboard froze mid-shift. “What happens when the first few pages don’t make sense to the reader? When the tone, the setting, the cast of characters all shift without warning?”

Okabe whispered the answer before he realized he was saying it. “You stop reading.”

The other nodded. “Or worse, you start rewriting the parts you don’t understand… and ruin the ones you do.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was dense — like standing inside a sealed room full of old memories, breathing in their dust.

“She had the theory,” Okabe said finally. “But you… you had the lived experience.”

The other gave a dry, unreadable smile. “ We had Reading Steiner.”

He turned toward Okabe, the weight of that truth settling like iron.

“You remember the pain of worldline shifts. The dissonance. The bleeding-over of self across timelines.”

He stepped back toward the whiteboard, now ghostlike in the low light. “Kurisu never saw that. She never felt it. She knew about Reading Steiner the way a physicist might read about a black hole. From the outside. Mathematically. Logically. But we lived inside it.”

Okabe said nothing. He was listening now like a man who had been sleepwalking and had finally opened his eyes.

“She assumed the brain could be persuaded. That context could be simulated. That a complete personality could be preserved through a merger — so long as the data aligned. But personality isn’t stored in memory banks. It’s formed by the sequence of experiences. By how we survive them. And when you break that sequence…”

“You get this,” Okabe said softly, gesturing at the cold environment they were in.

Another pause.

“I knew the merger would fail,” the other said, voice even but certain. “The algorithm — I didn’t write it, but I knew its shape. It mirrored the models I built during my Reading Steiner experiments. Same architecture. Same diagnostic flow.”

He paused, then added, “But it was cleaner. Smarter in places. They refined what I had only ever tested in fragments.”

He looked down briefly, thoughtful.

“It wasn’t built for the same purpose,” the other said. “My models were designed to provoke Reading Steiner — to study the threshold where identity begins to collapse under conflicting memory. Kurisu and Maho weren’t trying to achieve that. But the framework was similar. Enough so that I recognized it instantly.”

He exhaled slowly.

“Their version treated memory like architecture — something that could be aligned, sorted, and grafted through pattern recognition and structural integrity. But it suffered the fatal flaw in logic that were the baseline for my tests: it never accounted for what happens when two complete identities try to occupy the same brain.”

His gaze lifted again, steady.

“I knew the moment the system hit a mismatch that severe, the hippocampal failsafe would trigger. And they would’ve stopped the process before it tore your mind apart.””

A quiet breath.

“I just got there first.”

Okabe’s breath caught. “ You overrode the warning?”

“I buried it in the first microsecond of the handshake between your neural signature and the incoming stream. By the time the system could scream ‘stop,’ it was already done.”

He took a step closer. The golden light behind him caught in his coat like the tail of an eclipse.

“Like a true mad scientist…” Okabe muttered.

“I needed to see the real outcome. I needed to see this — a personality collapse — Reading Steiner, artificially induced in a living person. It’s the only kind of environment where someone like me — mnemonic, rooted only in the data preserved within Amadeus — could manifest. Where you and I could speak like this.”

Okabe stared at him, stunned. “You created this… space ?”

“I didn’t create it. You did. But I gave it the right conditions to stabilize. The moment your mind cracked under the weight, it reached for something — anything — to hold itself together. And I was already inside the stream.”

He raised his chin slightly, voice gentler now.

“Kurisu would never have allowed things to go this far. Not even to regain the version of us she lost. There was no way she was going to risk going the extra mile. But I knew that if we didn’t push the envelope  — if we didn’t test the failure — we’d never reach the truth — the one answer to a Reading Steiner shift that eluded me for a decade.”

“What truth?”

“That memory alone doesn’t define you. Experience does. And it’s not too late to rebuild the path that leads to wholeness. But it won’t come from merging. It will come from living. ”

The lab around them shimmered like a memory on the verge of collapse — details slightly too smooth, shadows slightly too sharp. Okabe stood still, surrounded by frozen echoes of familiar faces. Each one of them — Mayuri, Daru, Suzuha, Kurisu — felt both vivid and impossibly distant.

His other self, bolder in presence if not in body, continued to pace slowly in front of the whiteboard, the low hum of golden light casting long shadows across the floor.

“I know what I said gives very little guidance,” he said at last, tone low but steady. “So let’s talk about it. Precisely. Scientifically.”

He turned toward Okabe, eyes glinting with a sharpness that cut through the emotional haze.

“The merger did succeed in one regard: all of the memories of Steins Gate — the entirety of my life, my choices, my pain, my bonds — they were uploaded into your mind.  Every neural pattern. Every emotional imprint. They’re inside you now.”

He paused, as if waiting for the gravity of that to land.

“But here’s the problem. The memories exist, yes — but your mind has no access to them. Not meaningfully at least.”

He raised his hand toward the whiteboard. With a slow swipe of his fingers, complex fractal structures began to blossom across its surface, replacing the original patterns on the board: helixes branching into spirals, lattices folding back into themselves, diagrams alive with implied motion.

“Your consciousness operates like a neural lattice,” the other said softly. “Memories don’t just store themselves in order. They form in clusters — bound by emotional weight, by narrative flow, by meaning. The hippocampus doesn’t preserve the what. It preserves the why.”

Okabe stood motionless, gaze heavy, his breath shallow.

“She built the process to be seamless,” the other continued. “Two sets of memories, gently interwoven. A complete picture. Not an overwrite, but a merge.”

His eyes flicked toward the whiteboard, where fractured spirals glowed dimly — shapes trying to fuse but breaking apart before they could hold.

“But that’s not what happened.”

Okabe said nothing, trying to take in everything his other self was saying.

“The stream came in too fast,” the other said. “Too complete. Your consciousness — your stack of paper — began folding itself into my stack and destroying itself in the process. I wasn’t being integrated. You were being overwritten.”

A long silence settled in the space between them.

Finally, Okabe asked, “Then why stop it?”

The other’s reply was quiet.

“Because that would go against my own mission… and it would go against Kurisu’s newly realized wishes.”

His gaze didn’t waver.

“She didn’t conceptualize the memory-merger algorithm to bring one of us back. She built it to preserve both. The man she fell in love with — and the man she’d built a life with. Both matter to her now. Both are real. Erasing either… would’ve meant losing something irreplaceable.”

He turned toward the broken spirals, watching them flicker like dying neurons in low light.

“So I stopped the stream. I quarantined the memories before they could finish the overwrite. Not because the system failed. But because continuing would have violated the very thing she hoped to protect.”

Okabe’s breath caught in his throat.

“You could’ve finished it. Taken everything.”

“I didn’t want to take,” the other said. “I’ve done enough of that. And for the first time… with help that I should not have been scared to ask for… I’ve found success.”

He paused — not out of hesitation, but reflection.

“I began these experiments in 2025. I tried everything — partial merges, simulations, synthetic triggers using two distinctly formed Amadeus versions of myself with years of divergent personalities. I wanted to master Reading Steiner. To understand it. To control it out of fear that I would be overwritten that year instead of in 2036. But every version ended the same way: a total overwrite of the recipient consciousness.”

He met Okabe’s eyes again.

“This merger was bound to end the same way.”

His voice lowered.

“That understanding of my failures a decade ago shaped the stream — me. But even that wasn’t enough. It still needed something more — a mind present in the moment, able to feel the weight of those lessons and react, not just with thought, but with instinct.”

He paused, gaze distant.

“This wasn’t success by design. Honestly, I feared this would go the same way it went with Amadeus. However, this success made me realize one flaw about the system that perpetuated my failures back then. No matter how precisely Amadeus mimics the brain, it lacks the human element. It has no subconscious. No instinctive pull toward preservation. Just data following a set sequence.”

He looked back at Okabe.

“It only worked this time because the stream didn’t just carry memory — it carried the imprint of everything I had learned during those experiments. And for the first time, someone was alive to receive that imprint… not logically, but viscerally. You didn’t know what to do. But something in you — something human — did.”

Okabe’s voice was thin, uncertain. “Then it wasn’t just you protecting me… It was me protecting myself.”

“I helped you preserve yourself,” the other replied. “Because if this was truly going to be the conclusion of everything — the arduous months spent on the experiment, the hopeful return of my memories merged with yours — then it had to be honest. It had to be a meaningful success where no corners were cut.”

He gestured at the sealed fragments floating like dormant stars above the board.

“They’re still inside you. My memories. But sealed. Because right now, they have no emotional architecture to bind to. No earned shape. Your mind saw them not as lived experiences — but as noise.”

Okabe swallowed. “So they’re just… sitting there? Untouchable?”

“To your conscious mind? Yes,” the other said. “Subconsciously, they still exert pressure. But as you saw, your hippocampus didn’t purge all of them — some fragments slipped through, mostly involving Kurisu, Maho, and Daru, because there was just enough shared experience. But everything else? It hit a firewall. No context. No pathway. Your brain didn’t see memories — it saw noise. And we saw that manifested in how everyone in the lab reacted to you.”

He turned back toward the whiteboard and this time tapped one of the still-glowing fragments.

“You can’t brute-force memories into being meaningful. Meaning has to be earned. And right now, your mind doesn’t feel the truth of those events. They were mine. Not yours.”

“…So you're saying I’ve got a bunch of locked folders in my brain?”

The other Okabe stopped and gave a flat look, then sighed.

“Exactly. That’s… actually a perfect way to say it. Yes.”

He wiped the whiteboard clean with a slow sweep of his hand.

“You’ve got a complete database with no access keys. Because keys come from experience . And without experience — without feeling — those memories stay locked.”

A cold silence wrapped itself around them like static. Okabe stared at the blank board, trying to reconcile what he’d heard.

“They’re still inside me,” he said, quietly. “But they don’t belong to me.”

“They can,” the other replied. “But only if you’re willing to make them yours the right way.”

“…And what way is that?”

The other Okabe stepped closer, letting the silence stretch before answering.

“You reforge the bonds that gave them meaning in the first place. You live the moments that give those memories permission to awaken.”

Okabe remained still, the words sinking in. The memories wouldn’t truly belong to him unless he rebuilt the connections that had once defined them. They weren’t just facts to absorb — they were shaped by trust, by shared time, by the quiet rituals of daily life. To make them his, he would need to live those connections again. One conversation, one choice at a time.

As the weight of that realization took hold, the world around them began to fracture.

Not violently — gently, with purpose. Like something that had been held together only by thought, now returning to silence.

The golden haze thinned into gray. The glow from the outside sun faded into static. The walls of the lab flickered like reflections on the surface of water, warping and dissolving at the edges. Shelves collapsed into abstraction. The floor softened underfoot — no longer solid, no longer real. Even sound itself seemed to draw inward, muffled and distant.

The other simply watched it all.

“Looks like you’re ready to wake up,” he said. “Took you long enough.”

The other Okabe stood steady amid the unraveling world, his coat fluttering in the dissolving light. He looked at his counterpart — not with urgency, but with something quieter. A moment borrowed from memory.

“She never told you when she started calling us Okarin, did she?”

Okabe blinked. Something pulled at the edge of his mind — not a thought, not yet. Just a warmth. A flicker.

The name registered differently now. It felt less like an unfamiliar practice. He could feel the warmth in his chest as he imagined her saying that nickname. A moment passed between them, and for the first time, Okabe didn’t question the familiarity. His breath caught.

The other Okabe offered a faint smile, then turned toward the white blur where the lab’s door used to be.

The collapse accelerated. The lab couch vanished. The table dissolved to dust. The whiteboard dimmed into nothing. The air lost its shape. Shadows folded inward. Darkness.

And then—

Date: November 22, 2036 4:47:02AM

Divergence: 1.048596 (Steins Gate)

A sharp inhale.

Okabe’s eyes opened slowly, the sterile lights of Viktor Chondria’s Amadeus Control Room blooming into focus above him. His entire body was sluggish, like every cell had forgotten how to move. Cold air licked at the sweat on his neck.

“Cortical rhythm stabilizing,” Kurisu muttered, crouched beside the chair, fingers racing across the biometric readouts. “Pupils responsive. Breathing shallow but consistent.”

Her voice was clipped, clinical — but her eyes betrayed her. They kept flicking to his face between readings, desperate for something the machines couldn’t tell her.

From the console, Maho’s voice was terse. “We shut the system down in time — but the memory flood still happened. I can’t explain how. It bypassed every safeguard.”

Kurisu barely acknowledged her. She pressed a hand to Okabe’s forehead, then lowered it to his cheek, brushing aside a damp lock of hair.

“Okarin,” she said gently. “Can you hear me?”

Her hand hovered near his cheek, unsure whether to comfort or assess. He was breathing — barely. Blinking. Pupils responsive. But the thousand-yard stare in his eyes chilled her more than any machine’s data ever could.

Then, slowly, he nodded.

Kurisu exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Behind her, Maho muttered from the console, eyes scanning lines of code as if they'd betray a hidden truth.

“Every safeguard was bypassed,” she said under her breath. “The system registered the override after the process was already completed. No warning, no pause — it just… went. ”

Kurisu didn’t answer. Her gaze stayed locked on Okabe’s face.

She reached for the neural monitor leads still affixed to his temple and adjusted them gently, scanning the screen beside her. His alpha waves were rising — slow, but climbing. Muscle tone returning in the jaw. Basic neural responsiveness. Good. No overt signs of rejection trauma.

One step at a time. She cleared her throat and forced her voice steady.

“Okarin… can you follow my voice?”

A blink. Then another. Slow, but deliberate.

“What’s your name?”

A beat passed.

“…Okabe Rintaro,” he said, rasping the syllables out as if he had to reassemble them in his throat.

Kurisu nodded tightly, already checking off a box in her head.

“What year is it?”

“…2036.”

“Do you know where you are?”

He hesitated, eyes flicking toward the ceiling, the lights, the faint drone of servers beyond the door.

“The Amadeus Control Room,” he said.

She moved through the rest of the questions with clinical focus — asking him to track her finger, to grip her hand, to count backwards from ten. He did so. Sluggishly. But without confusion.

Only then — when she could no longer stall — did she ask the final question.

“What do you remember?”

Kurisu’s voice was calm—practiced. But beneath the surface, her nerves coiled tight. She wasn’t asking as his wife. Not yet. She was asking as a scientist, trying to find proof that something — anything — had changed.

Okabe didn’t answer right away.

His brow furrowed. His eyes drifted — not with confusion, but with a kind of weary effort, like someone pulling old files from a hard drive worn thin.

“…A lot,” he said quietly.

Kurisu felt the air leave her lungs.

“I remember war,” he went on, slowly. “Loss. Cold. Cities reduced to skeletons. People with names I forgot as soon as I learned them. I remember... surviving.”

His voice was distant. Flat. Not from shock — but familiarity. These were memories he’d lived with for years. And that’s when it hit her.

Nothing had changed. The war. The Beta Worldline. It was all still there. And only that. The merger hadn’t taken.

Her throat tightened, but she didn’t let it show. Not yet. Not until she knew for certain whether she’d just reset him to before he shifted into the Steins Gate Worldline.

“Do you remember anything else?” Kurisu asked softly, her voice careful, caught somewhere between the scientist and the person who had been holding her breath for what felt like hours.

Okabe lay still for a moment, eyes flickering behind half-lowered lids as if searching for a memory just out of reach. When he finally spoke, his voice had dropped into something gentler, almost reverent.

“There was… this one moment,” he said, slowly. “I’d just come back to the lab after going with Daru to some shop. Daru had peeled off halfway — something about buying a rare doujin — and I remember thinking I’d made the smarter escape.”

Kurisu didn’t move. Her chest rose, tight and shallow.

“When I walked in, it was just you and Mayuri.” He blinked once. “And you were both talking.”

Kurisu’s pulse skipped.

The edges of his mouth curved faintly, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“And when I emerged from the bottom of the stairwell, I saw you standing in front of the whiteboard. And the word that escaped your mouth?” He turned his head, locking eyes with her now. “ Okarin. ”

Kurisu stiffened.

“It wasn’t loud. It lacked all sorts of confidence. You looked like you wanted to erase the air just to take it back. But for some reason…” He hesitated. “For some reason, I remember everything about that second. The way you froze. The way Mayuri covered her mouth. The way you clutched that marker like it could reverse time.”

Kurisu’s lips parted, but no sound came out.

“I remember thinking… it felt right,” Okabe murmured. “Not because of the name itself, but because you said it. After all those years, all the history between us… you still found a new-yet-familiar way to say my name.  And in that moment, I wasn’t just your partner — I was yours in a way I hadn’t realized I’d been waiting for.”

He wasn’t recounting a story he’d read, or something secondhand from Amadeus. This wasn’t a hallucination. This was a memory he had felt .

One she’d never told him about.

Her vision blurred. She turned her face just slightly, blinking quickly, trying to preserve some semblance of composure. But she couldn’t stop the way her fingers trembled when she reached for his hand again.

“That was… the first time I ever called you that. You weren’t supposed to hear it.”

Okabe smiled faintly. “I’m glad I did.”

One memory. That’s all it took. And she knew, without needing any more proof, that everything would work out.

“…Unbelievable,” Maho muttered from across the room. “You two always wait until I’m here to have moments that belong in a heartfelt documentary.”

Okabe smirked. “You keep showing up, Little Girl. Your strangely coincidental timing is not our fault.”

“Mmhm.” She folded her arms. “Next time I’m suing you both for harassment.”

Kurisu gave a soft laugh but didn’t look away from him.

Maho paused, then stepped forward — her voice quieter, more careful now.

“When you went unconscious… do you recall feeling anything specific — any emotions, or experience to speak of?”

His gaze drifted — not lost, but distant. Like he was still carrying the echo of something vast and weighty. Something not entirely separate from himself anymore.

Kurisu saw it in the way his brow softened. The quiet shift in his breath. The stillness that hadn't been there before.

“…I spoke with someone,” he said finally. “Someone who knew everything I’d forgotten.”