[ It's not a platitude, no. Maruki knows the truth of Eren's statement better than anyone else ever possibly could. Realities can be created from nothing more than memories, after all. If he shares enough of his own with Eren, she'll become real to him in his own way.
And Eren could listen to him talk all day, so–
Maruki talks. All day.
About their school days. He had to join a sports club even though he was hopelessly uncoordinated, and she would come to his soccer matches even if he spent the whole time on the batch. He'd do the same with her martial arts meets. She visited him at his part time jobs, and when he got off his shifts they'd pool their scant money to study together in a diner. She was always bright, but he fretted endlessly over the possibility of them not attending the same college, so she promised to study as hard as he did to make sure they stayed together.
About striking out on their own when they were still too young to know anything about the world. Stupid, naive mistakes they made – the night he got swindled out of all of his money and very nearly got roped into joining a cult while waiting for her to leave a club with her friends, and the first apartment they rented together that couldn't have been much larger than his room back at the machiya. The ease with which she took to her studies, so much more practical than his ever were, and the job she had lined up well before graduation.
About those many happy years of his graduate studies as they settled into their life together, grew their circle of friends, accidentally somehow became functional, responsible adults together. The mornings after celebrations when he woke up late, hungover and headachey, and listened to her and Shibusawa laughing together in the living room. How loudly she sang at karaoke, and the flower arranging classes she took after work on Wednesdays and Fridays, and the used car he bought just so they could go on trips around the country relying on nothing but their own power. Onsen in the mountains, picturesque beaches, fireworks reflected in massive lakes, shrines and festivals and a hundred other memories she lost because they were spent with him.
About that wildflower field outside of Tokyo. How meticulously he planned that trip the first time he took her, and how they kept returning over the years. The flowers she picked everywhere they went, even if she wasn't supposed to, and pressed into a book he wishes he'd kept.
About a wedding that never happened. The botanical garden they were going to use as a venue. How nervous he was to finally meet her parents and ensure they approved of him. How she told him again and again that he had nothing to worry about. Her gloved hands cupping his face as snow fell outside their little home in the countryside. They talked about how they would one day inherit it, and their children would have children and bring them there too. They would have had the most joyful life together, he's sure of it.
About the promise that he made on the final day they both knew one another. The world that he would save so that no one would ever have to suffer the way that she did. In some reality, he did. He hopes it was worth it. He hopes she was happy, forever.
About every last little thing he can think of, the light shifting in through the slatted windows of the windmill until the sun begins to go down. He keeps talking. Night falls, and the cold creeps in. He keeps talking. His head aches, and Eren rubs his temples, and he keeps talking. Enough to make her real. Enough to carry her in his heart into every reality. Enough to never forget. ]
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And Eren could listen to him talk all day, so–
Maruki talks. All day.
About their school days. He had to join a sports club even though he was hopelessly uncoordinated, and she would come to his soccer matches even if he spent the whole time on the batch. He'd do the same with her martial arts meets. She visited him at his part time jobs, and when he got off his shifts they'd pool their scant money to study together in a diner. She was always bright, but he fretted endlessly over the possibility of them not attending the same college, so she promised to study as hard as he did to make sure they stayed together.
About striking out on their own when they were still too young to know anything about the world. Stupid, naive mistakes they made – the night he got swindled out of all of his money and very nearly got roped into joining a cult while waiting for her to leave a club with her friends, and the first apartment they rented together that couldn't have been much larger than his room back at the machiya. The ease with which she took to her studies, so much more practical than his ever were, and the job she had lined up well before graduation.
About those many happy years of his graduate studies as they settled into their life together, grew their circle of friends, accidentally somehow became functional, responsible adults together. The mornings after celebrations when he woke up late, hungover and headachey, and listened to her and Shibusawa laughing together in the living room. How loudly she sang at karaoke, and the flower arranging classes she took after work on Wednesdays and Fridays, and the used car he bought just so they could go on trips around the country relying on nothing but their own power. Onsen in the mountains, picturesque beaches, fireworks reflected in massive lakes, shrines and festivals and a hundred other memories she lost because they were spent with him.
About that wildflower field outside of Tokyo. How meticulously he planned that trip the first time he took her, and how they kept returning over the years. The flowers she picked everywhere they went, even if she wasn't supposed to, and pressed into a book he wishes he'd kept.
About a wedding that never happened. The botanical garden they were going to use as a venue. How nervous he was to finally meet her parents and ensure they approved of him. How she told him again and again that he had nothing to worry about. Her gloved hands cupping his face as snow fell outside their little home in the countryside. They talked about how they would one day inherit it, and their children would have children and bring them there too. They would have had the most joyful life together, he's sure of it.
About the promise that he made on the final day they both knew one another. The world that he would save so that no one would ever have to suffer the way that she did. In some reality, he did. He hopes it was worth it. He hopes she was happy, forever.
About every last little thing he can think of, the light shifting in through the slatted windows of the windmill until the sun begins to go down. He keeps talking. Night falls, and the cold creeps in. He keeps talking. His head aches, and Eren rubs his temples, and he keeps talking. Enough to make her real. Enough to carry her in his heart into every reality. Enough to never forget. ]