Chapter 14: Last Sunshine of the Spotted Mind
The cumulative weight of 630 devastating failures and one terrible, irrefutable truth pressed down on me, heavier than any physical burden, more crushing than gravity itself. My gaze, weary yet resolute, was fixed on the wall clock, its stark red digits burning a searing imprint onto my retina: 7:00 PM. This was it. The end of the line. The final, damning conclusion to a battle I had waged against time and fate, a battle I had, by all accounts, lost.
If my departure was truly unavoidable, if my sacrifice was the solitary patch for the hopelessly broken reality I had inadvertently created, then I swore to myself that I would not go alone. Not in spirit, not in the quiet recesses of my heart. I craved one last, perfect day. This wasn't a plea for another chance to fight, another opportunity to scheme, or to manipulate the threads of time. No, I simply wanted to be with her. To etch one flawless memory into the very fabric of my soul, a vibrant, burning image that would sustain me as I prepared to erase myself forever. The thought of that final memory was both a solace and a torment, a last beautiful lie I could tell myself.
My hand, surprisingly steady for the first time in what felt like an eternity of trembling uncertainty, reached for the burner phone. The cool, smooth plastic felt both alien and intimately familiar in my grip. With a practiced motion, I swiped open the E.R.I.S. application. Its once terrifying, labyrinthine interface was no longer a source of dread, but merely a tool, a necessary instrument for my final, most selfish request. My thumb slid across the duration bar, dragging it relentlessly all the way to the far left. The number clicked into place: 24 Hours. A full day. But I didn't press confirm just yet. A wave of precision, born of desperate need, washed over me. I scrolled the time, my mind calculating with a chilling clarity. I needed to go back to last night, to the very cusp of the doomed day. My fingers, guided by an unseen force, meticulously set the clock to 7:00 PM. YESTERDAY. My breath hitched. This was it. The point of no return. With a quiet, almost prayer-like resolve, I pressed CONFIRM.
The WHUMMMM that followed was profoundly different this time. It wasn't the violent, jarring tearing of the world that I had grown accustomed to, not a brutal ripping of the temporal fabric. Instead, it felt like a deep, melancholic sigh exhaling from the universe itself, a sorrowful exhalation that gently, almost tenderly, pulled me back with an irresistible, sorrowful gravity. It was as if time itself was weeping, reluctantly acquiescing to my final wish.
And then, just like that, I was back. The familiar scent of dust and stale air filled my nostrils, the soft, worn texture of my own sheets beneath my fingers. I was in my room, exactly as I remembered it. The digital clock on my bedside table glowed faintly: 7:00 PM. The night before the fated, catastrophic day. My heart, which had been a drumbeat of frantic activity for weeks, settled into a slow, steady rhythm, like a pendulum finally at rest.
There was no urge to hack, no frantic need to plan. The desperate, hyper-caffeinated energy that usually consumed me after a rewind was utterly absent. I simply laid in my bed, allowing my gaze to drift over the familiar clutter of my room. It felt like a museum, each object a relic of a boy I no longer recognized, a life I was about to abandon. My textbooks, scattered coding notes, even the stray hoodie flung carelessly over my desk chair – they were all testaments to a past self. "You were a dumb genius, Kaito," I whispered to the silent ceiling, the words barely a breath. A wry, self-deprecating smile touched my lips. "You really were. You broke everything. Absolutely everything." The confession hung in the air, heavy with self-condemnation. But then, a quiet warmth bloomed in my chest, a small, stubborn ember of truth. "But you loved her. At least you did that right. That, you got perfectly right." A strange, profound peace, an almost spiritual tranquility, settled over me then, the calm that only comes after the storm has irrevocably taken everything. I closed my eyes, the exhaustion of countless loops finally claiming me, and I fell asleep without dreams, for the first time in what felt like forever.
When the shrill, insistent blare of my alarm ripped through the quiet morning air, I didn't groan or slam my hand down on it in my usual fit of irritation. Instead, I rose with a quiet, solemn purpose. The cool laminate of the floor felt solid beneath my bare feet. I walked to the bathroom, the air still slightly cool, and stepped into the shower, letting the warm spray wash over me, a physical cleansing that felt symbolic. I used a facial wash, its faint scent of citrus a forgotten pleasure, a product I hadn't touched in months, too consumed by the loops to care about such mundane things. When I looked in the mirror, truly looked, I saw not the sarcastic, mischievous boy I usually projected, but a tired, haunted reflection staring back, shadows beneath his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and endless despair. My messy black hair, usually a wild testament to my chaotic nature, was brushed until it was remarkably neat, parted just so.
From the closet, I pulled my school uniform, its fabric still crisp from the dry cleaners, and ironed it until the creases were impossibly sharp, the fabric a perfect, unblemished white and navy. Each stroke of the hot iron against the cloth was deliberate, a ritual of preparation. I even reached for a small bottle of cologne, its warm, earthy scent of sandalwood mingling with an undeniable undercurrent of regret. I dabbed a hint behind my ears, the subtle fragrance a stark contrast to the grim reality I faced. I was a different man this morning. A man walking towards his inevitable end, but with his head held high, ready to meet his fate with a dignity I hadn't known I possessed.
I saw her in the bustling hallway, and the entire world, with all its chaotic sounds and movements, simply stopped. The cacophony of student chatter, the rhythmic squeak of sneakers on linoleum, the distant clang of lockers – all of it faded into a muffled hum. She was laughing, her head tilted back slightly, a friend's hand resting lightly on her arm. Her smile was so beautiful, so effortlessly bright, so utterly incandescent, it wasn't merely a pleasant sight; it was a physical, sharp pain in my chest, a bittersweet ache that stole my breath. It was the purest light I had ever known, illuminating the darkness I carried. When the first period bell finally shrieked, its piercing sound a jarring return to reality, and students began to flood out for recess, I walked straight towards her, my resolve unwavering. My voice, when I spoke her name, was calm, clear, and surprisingly deeper than usual, stripped of its usual sarcastic edge.
"Airi."
She turned, her long hair swaying gently, her eyes widening slightly in surprise as she registered my unexpectedly neat appearance, the deliberate stillness about me. Her head tilted, a question in her gaze.
"Are you free after class?" I asked, my tone direct, leaving absolutely no room for my usual witty banter or playful sarcasm. There was an unspoken urgency in my voice, a quiet intensity she seemed to pick up on. "I'd like to take you somewhere."
A soft, delicate pink blush, like the first flush of dawn, dusted her cheeks, a sight so exquisitely precious it nearly broke the carefully constructed dam of my composure. She was flustered, yes, but in the most adorably endearing way, her eyes fluttering momentarily, her lower lip caught between her teeth. "Y-Yep! I am not busy~ hehe~~" Her small, nervous giggle was a familiar comfort, a sound that resonated deep within my soul.
After the final bell, its insistent ring a melancholy reminder of time's relentless march, I waited by the main gate, watching the stream of students thinning out. My gaze was fixed on the entrance, a knot of anticipation and dread tightening in my stomach. Then I saw her, a splash of soft color amidst the muted school uniforms. She was saying goodbye to her friends, her gestures animated and irresistibly cute, her hands fluttering as she spoke. And then she saw me. Her smile, already radiant, widened so much that her eyes disappeared into happy, crinkling crescents. She waved, a bright, eager gesture, and began walking – no, practically bouncing – towards me, her steps light and joyful.
"Let's go!" she chirped, her voice a melody of pure, unadulterated happiness. Her joy, so palpable, felt like a sunbeam breaking through the encroaching twilight of my own existence, a fleeting warmth against the chill of my impending farewell. "I know some places~~"
She led me away from the school, her hand occasionally brushing mine as we walked, to the nearby park. The late afternoon sun, a soft, golden light, filtered through the thick canopy of leaves, dappling the ground in shifting patterns of gold and shadow. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and distant blooming flowers. We found a quiet spot where an old woman, her face a roadmap of gentle wrinkles, was patiently feeding a small cluster of stray cats from a worn fabric bag. Without a word, Airi, with an almost magical foresight, pulled a tiny, crinkling packet of cat treats from her own bag – of course she had them, it was so utterly Airi-like – and knelt down, offering one to a wary, tortoiseshell calico. The old grandma, her eyes twinkling with amusement and warmth, watched us, a gentle, knowing smile gracing her lips.
"You both look like a great couple," she said, her voice warm and raspy with age, like the rustling of dry leaves.
A hot, sudden blush flared across both our faces. We immediately looked away from each other, in opposite directions, a silent, shared wave of acute embarrassment and a strange, comforting warmth passing between us. My cheeks felt hot, prickling with the unexpected intimacy of the moment.
The grandma chuckled softly, a sound like dry autumn leaves rustling, her gaze then settling on me, piercing through my carefully constructed facade. "And you," she said, her eyes, ancient and wise, twinkling with an unnerving perception. "You look like you would do anything for her."
My breath caught in my throat, a painful constriction. A profound, aching truth resonated deep within me, the sheer weight of it a lead ballast in my gut. I could only nod, my silence a more potent affirmation than any words. She had seen me, truly seen me, in that one fleeting moment.
From the park, we meandered to the nearby mall, the bright fluorescent lights a stark contrast to the soft outdoor glow. We indulged in the simple, carefree joy of trying on ridiculous hats and oversized sunglasses in a novelty shop, our laughter echoing off the polished floors as we took silly pictures with my phone, each click of the camera freezing a moment of bittersweet happiness. She held up two shirts for me, one a sleek, charcoal black, the other a vibrant, sky blue, her head tilted, her brow furrowed in serious, adorable consideration as she debated which suited me better. Her genuine concern over such a trivial choice brought a soft, sad smile to my lips. Then, we went to the cinema, slipping into the cool, dark embrace of the theater to watch some mindless, explosions-and-car-chases action movie. In the dim, flickering light, our hands, almost instinctively, brushed against each other on the shared armrest. A jolt, electric and warm, shot up my arm, a current of pure, unadulterated sensation. Our fingers lingered, a breath away from intertwining, before we both shyly pulled away, our faces burning with an embarrassed warmth in the dim light of the screen.
"I'm hungry," Airi announced afterward, her stomach rumbling adorably, a soft, cute protest. "Let's eat something!"
We ended up in a small, quiet café, a cozy haven smelling faintly of roasted coffee beans and sweet pastries. It was hushed, the murmur of other patrons a distant background hum. She ordered a wobbly, caramel-topped pudding, its surface shimmering invitingly, and a vibrant green matcha latte. She ate the pudding with such focused, childish delight, her eyes wide with simple pleasure, taking small, perfect spoonfuls that left faint traces of caramel on her lips. I watched her, my gaze drinking her in, trying to memorize every infinitesimal detail: the way her nose crinkled charmingly when she tasted the faint bitterness of the matcha, the pure, unadulterated joy that blossomed on her face from the sugary sweetness of the pudding. I wanted to etch her very essence into my mind.
"Oh!" I said softly, a genuine smile, perhaps the first truly unburdened one I'd worn in weeks, touching my lips. "You've got a little..."
She looked up, her expression a sweet blend of confusion and curiosity. A tiny, perfect bit of pudding clung to her bottom lip, a testament to her single-minded enjoyment. "Huh? Oh! Sorry~~ hehe, didn't notice it!" she giggled, her cheeks flushing faintly as she daintily dabbed at it with a crisp paper napkin.
She stirred her latte, the spoon clinking softly against the ceramic, her gaze distant for a moment, lost in thought. "You know," she began, her voice quieter now, a fragile thread in the air, "I had the weirdest dream last night. It felt so incredibly real."
My heart, which had just begun to settle, stuttered, a cold dread coiling in my gut. "A dream?" I managed, my voice a mere whisper.
"Mmm," she hummed, tracing an invisible pattern on the polished tabletop with her finger, still not looking directly at me. Her brow furrowed slightly in concentration. "You were in it, Shou-kun. But you were… different. Like a superman, or something, with impossible super strength, lol!" She let out a small, nervous laugh, a sound that grated on my raw nerves. "I know it sounds silly, but… I dreamed there was this horrible accident at a construction site? A huge, massive steel beam was falling directly toward me, and I felt the air whoosh past, the ground shaking, but you were just suddenly there, and you… you pushed it away like it was nothing, like it weighed no more than a feather."
I said nothing, my blood turning to icy slush in my veins. My hands, hidden beneath the table, began to tremble uncontrollably, a fine, almost imperceptible tremor.
"And another one," she continued, her voice gaining a strange, almost insistent quality, still not looking up, lost in the vivid tapestry of her recollection. "We were at the mall, and a huge light fixture, one of those massive ones from the ceiling, fell directly towards me. But you caught it, just a fraction of a second before it would have crushed me. And at the sports field! A whole, enormous tree fell over in this crazy, impossible wind, the roots tearing from the ground with a sickening groan, and I dreamed you just… held it up, stopping its fall. It was impossible, utterly impossible." The memory seemed to haunt her even in its recounting.
My hands were shaking violently now under the table, the tremor spreading through my arms. I clenched them into desperate fists, digging my nails into my palms, anything to stop the visible tremor, to contain the raw panic bubbling up inside me.
"The scariest one," she whispered, her voice barely audible now, a breathy, fragile sound, "was when we were watching a movie at your house… and the whole house just… exploded. A terrifying flash of light, an unbelievable roar. But you grabbed me, and we just… flew out the window as it all went up in flames, the heat searing my skin even in the dream." She finally paused, taking a shaky, ragged breath, as if the recounting itself was physically exhausting her. "I'm sorry, Shou-kun, this is all so weird. I just… I have this weird talent, I guess. I remember my dreams really, really clearly. It felt like I was really dying, in all of them, the terror so visceral, until you saved me, every single time."
She finished speaking, a faint, self-conscious blush creeping up her neck and staining her cheeks for sharing something so profoundly strange, so utterly unbelievable. She took a slow, deliberate sip of her latte, as if to regain her composure, and then, finally, her eyes, wide and searching, lifted to meet mine.
Her smile, which had been so radiant moments before, faltered, then died completely. Her eyes, usually so bright and full of innocent wonder, widened, slowly, agonizingly, as she took in my face.
I was crying.
Not loud, racking sobs that would draw attention, but silent, hot tears, an endless river of grief and despair that streamed relentlessly down my face, dripping from my chin onto the polished wood of the table, leaving small, dark spots. They were the tears of a thousand failures, of a million shattered hopes, each drop a testament to the agony of countless loops. And yet, beneath that crushing pain, there was a strange, profound relief that she knew, that my struggle, my impossible burden, hadn't been endured in a vacuum. But predominantly, they were tears of absolute, soul-crushing heartbreak, because I had finally been seen by her, truly seen for the first time, my secret laid bare, just as I was about to disappear from her life forever.
"Shou-kun?" she breathed, her voice filled with a sudden, sharp alarm, tinged with fear. Her hand hovered, uncertainly, over the table. "What's wrong? Did I say something terrible? I'm so, so sorry, it was just a silly dream, I—"
"They weren't dreams, Airi," I choked out, the words tearing from my throat, raw and broken, rasping with unshed emotion. Each syllable was a fresh wound. "Every single time, I failed to save you. And I had to watch you… die, again, and again, and again. I had to go back, to rewind, to try and fix it, to save you from all of it, from all of those impossible deaths." My gaze, blurred by my own tears, met hers, and in her wide, terrified eyes, I saw it: a flicker of impossible recognition, of dawning, crushing understanding, like a dark truth blooming in her innocent mind. "That day… when I was in the bathroom, trapped in the loop. The face in the mirror… that was you, wasn't it? You were trying to tell me it was okay, weren't you?"
Her own tears began to well, mirroring mine, spilling over the brim of her lower eyelids and tracing shimmering paths down her pale cheeks. She nodded, a single, jerky motion, as if her neck could barely support the weight of this impossible revelation. Her face, usually so vibrant, was now bone-white, and the spoon, forgotten, clattered from her trembling hand onto the table with a soft, hollow sound. "I… I thought that was a dream, too," she whispered, her voice equally broken. "I kept seeing your face, but it felt so real, like a memory I shouldn't have, a memory that didn't belong to me."
"I broke the universe for you, Airi," I said, the terrible, monumental truth hanging in the air between us, heavy and fragile, like a glass sculpture on the verge of shattering. My hand, still trembling, reached across the small table, driven by an instinct beyond conscious thought, and gently, with a touch as soft as a whispered prayer, wiped the last little bit of caramel pudding from her trembling lip. It was an act of profound tenderness, a final gesture of devotion. "And now… I have to fix it. It's the only way you get to live, the only way you get to have a future."
She stared at me, her eyes, wet and wide with a pain that mirrored my own, tracing the paths of the tears on her faintly blushed cheeks. A small, disbelieving laugh, wet and choked with tears, escaped her lips, a sound of utter despair and bewildered acceptance. "That's weird, hahaha… I'm crying too…" She sniffled, a sound of raw emotion, her eyes still locked on mine, full of an agony that matched the depths of my own, but also, miraculously, an unwavering, innocent belief. In that small, quiet café, surrounded by the comforting, if now ironic, scent of fresh coffee and sweet sugar, we finally, truly shared the same impossible reality. And in that singular, agonizing moment, it was both the most beautiful, and the most profoundly tragic, moment of my entire, countless, looped existence.
"I love you," I whispered, the words barely audible, a fragile breath of sound in the sudden stillness of our shared understanding, yet they felt like the loudest, most absolute truth I had ever spoken, resonating with every fiber of my being. Every shattered timeline, every desperate, futile attempt, every moment of soul-crushing despair and lonely suffering I had endured—it had all, every single agonizing second, led to this. Even though all of this pain, this relentless, isolating pain I had carried within myself, I thought it was all useless, a pointless exercise in futility, I thought, the tears flowing faster now, blurring her beautiful face through a shimmering veil of sorrow. But it wasn't. It was for this moment, for this precious, agonizing moment only.
Airi's gaze, brimming with her own tears, softened, her lips trembling, struggling to form words. "I love you more," she managed, her voice thick with raw emotion, her own hand reaching across the table, hesitant at first, then firm, grasping mine, her fingers intertwining with mine, a silent, desperate promise exchanged in the face of impossible goodbyes. The warmth of her touch, the delicate pressure of her fingers, was a lifeline I knew I would soon have to sever.
We sat there for what felt like an eternity, suspended in a timeless bubble of shared grief and impossible love, our hands clasped together, our eyes speaking volumes that words could never contain. The air in the café seemed to hum with the electricity of our shared sorrow and our unspoken, agonizing farewells. The scent of coffee, once a simple comfort, now carried the bittersweet tang of memory and loss. Eventually, the mundane world intruded, the distant clatter of dishes, the murmur of other voices, pulling us back to the crushing reality that our precious, stolen time was irrevocably slipping away. We rose, our movements heavy, our legs weighted with the leaden knowledge of what lay ahead, and walked out into the cool evening air, our steps slow and deliberate, our hearts aching with a profound, unutterable pain. We parted ways with a final, lingering look, our eyes locked, a silent, devastating understanding passing between us, a goodbye that transcended words.
It was 7:00 PM. The same time I had set. I looked at my phone, the digital clock stark and unforgiving against the dark screen. Seven PM. The exact, precise time. A cold dread, heavy and sickeningly familiar, seeped into my bones, a certainty that chilled me to the core. She should have been dead. But she wasn't. Airi was walking away, alive, whole, disappearing into the orange glow of the streetlights.
Then, my phone buzzed again, a sharp vibration against my palm. A news alert flashed across the screen, its bright text momentarily blinding. My blood ran cold, turning to ice, as I read the headline, my heart hammering against my ribs: "Bus Line 32 Accident - All Passengers Confirmed Dead." A bus. The bus she would have taken. The one she should have been on. It was confirmation, yet a bewildering, impossible contradiction.
Holding my burner phone, the one that had been both my instrument of chaos and my desperate, impossible hope, I knew, with a chilling certainty, what I had to do. This was the only way to truly fix everything, to undo the anomaly I had created, to restore the world to its proper, unburdened state. I was ready to initiate the deepest possible time loop, a final, irreversible reset that would take me back to a life before E.R.I.S., before any of this tangled, agonizing reality began. Back to the very start, a clean slate, where she was safe, unburdened by my impossible actions, my reckless love. My thumb hovered, trembling infinitesimally, over the final, damning confirmation button, ready to erase my existence from her timeline, from all timelines, to become a ghost in the machine of time.
Then, a new notification flashed, its bright light piercing through the heavy film of my despair. A breaking news update, pushed to the very top of my screen, demanding attention. "Bus Accident Survivor Identified: One Girl Found Alive."
Shou didn't see it. Not immediately. His eyes were already fixed, unseeing, on the button, his heart on the brink of shattering into a million irreparable pieces. And then, with a silent, heart-wrenching finality, he clicked it.