[ for a brief, dizzying moment more than a dozen answers come swarming through marta's mind, desperate and tripping over each other in an attempt to be the right answer, the perfect string of words to make this all better. she can't help it, it's reflexive; to hear the hopelessness and despair in his voice and want to help, find some sort of balm to soothe the pain.

she wants to tell him: it's not your responsibility to save anyone. but she knows that wouldn't make a difference, not to him, whose heart is bigger than he pretends, whose shoulders have grown too used to carrying burdens that were never meant for one person to bear alone.

or say: don't focus on the past or the future, just think about the present. but their very purpose here is based on a deal meant to fix one of those, so what good is pretending neither exist when you'll only be made to think about it again in time?

or maybe: that won't happen to you, you don't deserve it. what does she know of "deserve"? and does any universe even bother to follow such rules anyway?

in the end, her answer comes in a quiet, defeated whisper. ]

I don't know.

[ for better or for worse, all she can ever do is answer honestly. ]

Whether or not that happens, I can't say. But —

[ but.
she told him once, and she had meant it: if nothing else, she will carry his hope for him. ]

— But ghosts aren't meant to linger, Takeshi. [ it's hard being the one left behind. ] They need to rest, so you can too.