FA watched him. The way Asahi struggled to breathe, body still shaking, blood trailing from his ears—the effort it took just to stay standing. FA's expression remained unreadable, but inside…
He was drowning.
While he uses his eye... he can travel through dimensions...
The thought echoed in FA's mind, detached, hollow.
But that wasn't his real reason for sending him. Not the true one.
FA's gaze lingered on Asahi—soft, mournful.
Asahi… I'm sorry... But you are the only one who can do it... The only one who can kill him.
Silence fell like a shroud, suffocating and absolute.
Asahi inhaled, shallow and strained. His fingers twitched. A sharp breath escaped his lips. Slowly, he closed his eyes—and his left eye pulsed faintly with a dark red glow.
He focused.
"I will be waiting, Asahi…" FA whispered.
A hope. A prayer. A farewell.
In an instant, Asahi vanished. The world around him warped violently. His senses blurred. His body twisted, pulled through the rift like thread in a storm. And then—
Nothing.
---
When he awoke, his vision spun. The pain was still there—gnawing at his skull, ringing in his ears.
"Ugh… what…?" he groaned, gripping his head as he staggered upright.
The room around him slowly came into focus.
"…My house?" he muttered.
But something felt off.
It was his house—but aged. Dust clung to the corners. The air was stale, the kind that spoke of silence too long kept. The floor creaked beneath his bare feet. He took cautious steps down the stairs, one hand dragging along the wall to steady himself.
"This… this is my house. Did I even get teleported?" he murmured.
But then came the stillness. The wrongness.
"Where is everyone…?"
His voice echoed.
In the hallway, his eyes landed on a shattered photo frame. He knelt slowly and picked it up, brushing away the dust. A picture of Mom, Dad, and Anari stared back at him—distorted by fractured glass.
He clutched it tightly.
"…So, this Asahi is broken," he whispered.
A flickering light caught his attention. The faint hum of a television buzzed in the next room.
"…Guess it's him," Asahi said flatly.
He made his way to the living room.
The door creaked open.
Inside: darkness. The room was cloaked in filth—empty bottles, cigarette ash, discarded wrappers. The smell of decay clung to the air.
And sitting on the floor, hunched over and ghostly pale, was another Asahi.
Wrist scars. Neck cuts. Hollow eyes.
The television glowed blue, casting long shadows on the trash-covered floor.
"…Hey," the broken Asahi muttered, without even looking at him.
He patted the floor beside him.
"Come sit next to me."
Without resistance, Asahi walked forward and lowered himself beside his broken self. Cold, detached.
They sat shoulder to shoulder, but worlds apart.
"…It's Anari's favorite show, right?" Asahi asked, eyes fixed on the screen.
"Yeah," the other replied, voice barely audible.
Silence.
"How did you know I was coming?" Asahi asked again.
"I can see people's powers," his counterpart whispered. "I can see yours too."
A simple nod. "Mmm."
The screen flickered. Blue light bathed their faces.
"…So why are you here?" the broken one asked, almost lazily.
Asahi didn't hesitate.
"I just came here to kill you."
There was no shock. No anger. Just tired understanding.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Another pause.
"You're the one with the blessing, right?"
"Mmm. Yes."
"The one from the ultimate dimension…"
Asahi said nothing. Still watching.
"…You think killing me will stop him?" Broken Asahi asked, voice edged with mockery.
"No."
A bitter laugh. Dry and hollow.
"…So you're fighting for hope, huh?"
Asahi nodded once. "Yeah."
Their conversation was a whisper against the loudness of the world they'd both lost.
"You're not gonna do anything?" Asahi asked.
"I can only read powers. That's all."
"Oh."
"I already lost Anari…" the broken one added.
The words hung in the air like smoke.
"My mom… my dad… they're gone."
Asahi sat still, expression unreadable.
"…I think it's not fate," the broken Asahi said suddenly.
"Huh?" Asahi frowned.
"What if it's not fate?" he repeated, gaze unfocused.
"It has to be fate," Asahi muttered, tone flat.
"I can read powers…" his other self whispered. "But when Anari died… it felt different. Like it wasn't fate at all. Like it was something else."
Asahi rose slowly to his feet. His body swayed.
"…Is it already time?" the broken Asahi asked.
"Yes."
The broken one gave a soft chuckle.
"Yeah… I've always been trying to kill myself anyway." He looked up at Asahi and nodded. "Go ahead. Just do it."
Asahi stepped forward. His ears were still bleeding. His fingers trembled—but not from fear.
He gently placed his palm over the other's heart.
"…Sayonara," the broken Asahi whispered.
For the first time, Asahi smiled.
It wasn't warm.
It wasn't kind.
It was empty.
"REPEL."
A surge of force erupted from his hand. The other Asahi's body jolted—the heart torn from him in a single, precise blow.
The organ hit the ground. Still beating.
Still trying to live.
But fading.
The body began to collapse, and Asahi caught him, cradling him gently. His hand rested on the dying forehead. His left eye flickered—absorbing the final traces of power.
The heartbeat slowed.
Then—
Stopped.
Asahi remained still.
"…I know how you feel, Asahi," he whispered, pulling the lifeless body into a soft embrace.
A single tear trailed down his cheek.
"…Thank you."
He rose to his feet, that tear still glimmering on his skin.
He looked down at his broken reflection.
Countless versions of me… All suffering… And yet I'm the one who must carry it all.
His eyes closed.
"Am I doing everything right…?" he whispered into the silence. "Is this the right way…? While every Asahi is breaking… why am I the one left standing…?"
No answer came.
Only the cold hum of the television and a room that had long forgotten what warmth felt like.
And then—
He vanished.
The world around him shattered like glass, pulling him back… back into the Dimensional Dream.