[ If Maruki only had memories of his life in Tokyo up until Christmas Eve, he might crumble into grief. Maybe if he only had those memories, and then the ones from a medieval village in the space between waking and dreams. But he has so much more than that, the knowledge of the realities they've inhabited together, separately – the cyclical nature of life and death, love and grief, memory and consciousness – the sea of mankind's hearts to which they'll all return – the Paths – the Aetherial Sea – everything – all of it– ]

We die, but we don't.

[ Stated softly, simply, with a smile that's more peaceful than anything else. ]

You're dead, but you're not. You're here. We both are. Maybe I'm dead too. Who knows?

[ And then, because he knows his friend: ]

How does it feel?