*sound of rain*
How.... Many times has it been? I've already lost count on how many times I've killed Piku. Today, I've done it again.
The world was fading again, dissolving into the same cold shadows that haunted me every night. But this time, the dark felt deeper, heavier, like ink swallowing me whole. I blinked hard, trying to shake off the disorientation, the numbness, but my surroundings shifted with each breath.
One moment I was holding the knife, the blade slick with Piku's blood, his shocked eyes burning into mine. The next moment, I was standing in a corridor I didn't recognize, my hand clutching air.
The walls were different here—sleek and polished, adorned with framed certificates, each one stamped with my name. Takeru Hashimoto. Each certificate boasted achievements, awards, accolades. My name was plastered everywhere, repeated so many times that it blurred into a strange, mocking pattern. Best in Physics. Top Scorer. Model Student. I didn't remember earning any of these, yet the sight of them filled me with an unexpected rush of satisfaction.
I stepped back, uneasy, my heart pounding. The knife was gone from my hand, yet a strange tingling sensation remained, like it had been seared into my skin. I scanned my surroundings, looking for Piku, the familiar dread lurking in the pit of my stomach.
Instead, I saw… myself.
He stood down the corridor, staring at me with an expression of pure disdain. This version of me was clean-cut, sharply dressed in a school uniform that seemed custom-made, every detail immaculate. His posture was ramrod-straight, his jaw set, a quiet authority emanating from him like heat. His eyes were cold, distant, and when he looked at me, I felt a chill crawl down my spine.
"Who are you?" I blurted, my voice cracking in the silence.
The other Takeru tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I could ask you the same thing. Do you always wander around other people's lives like this?" His tone was sharp, mocking, as if he were speaking to someone beneath him.
I clenched my fists, unease curdling in my stomach. "I don't understand… where am I?"
"You're in my timeline," he replied smoothly, stepping closer, his eyes appraising me with a look I recognized all too well—superiority, the sense of utter certainty that he was untouchable. "The question is, how did you end up here?"
I swallowed, searching for an answer, but the words refused to come. I could feel his judgment, the weight of his gaze, pressing down on me like a vice. This version of me was everything I wasn't—confident, powerful, untouched by the shadows that haunted me. He radiated authority, as if he expected the world to bend to his will.
And then I heard a familiar voice, echoing from the other end of the hallway. I turned, my breath catching as I saw Piku, his face twisted in a look of uncharacteristic reverence. He looked up at him, the other Takeru, with a mixture of admiration and awe, like he was staring at someone worthy of worship.
"Takeru," Piku said, his voice deferential, careful. "The council's waiting for you. They want to hear your decision."
The other me nodded curtly, dismissing him with a single glance. Piku's gaze lingered, admiration radiating from his every movement. I had never seen Piku like this, never known him to act as if he were the lesser one in any room.
It twisted something inside me, seeing him like this—seeing me like this. I couldn't deny the thrill, the twisted satisfaction bubbling up, but the feeling left me queasy. This wasn't right. None of it was right.
"Wait," I called out, taking a step toward them. "Piku—"
They both turned, but only Piku's face registered any surprise. The other Takeru's expression shifted to something colder, more menacing. He watched me as if I were an insect that had crawled out from beneath a rock.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice low and venomous. "You don't belong in this world."
I struggled to hold his gaze, to keep my expression steady, but the weight of his disdain pressed down on me. "What… what is this place?"
The other Takeru smiled, but it was a cruel, hollow expression. "This is a place where I reign. Where I am the one they admire, respect. Not because I grovel or pretend to be something I'm not. Here, I take what's mine. You wouldn't understand that, though. You're too busy chasing someone else's light."
Piku looked between us, his brow creasing as if he were piecing together a puzzle. "Takeru… who is he? Why does he look like you?"
"Someone who doesn't know his place," the other me sneered. "Someone weak. Afraid. The kind of person who spends his life hiding in someone else's shadow, letting resentment eat away at him because he's too small-minded to claim what's his."
The words cut deep, each one striking at something raw and festering within me. I felt my own bitterness bubbling up, but this time it was aimed at the version of myself standing before me, radiating superiority.
"This isn't real," I whispered, a note of desperation creeping into my voice. "This is just another nightmare, another… trick."
"Oh, it's real," he replied, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "You don't understand, do you? You've crossed into another world—my world. Each of us carries a different sin, and mine is one you wouldn't dare embrace."
His words echoed in my mind, the pieces of a fractured truth snapping into place. I had been consumed by envy for so long that it had blinded me, kept me trapped in a loop of resentment and darkness. But here, in this world, the shadows weren't shadows at all. They were weapons, sharpened and honed, wielded by a version of myself who wasn't afraid to step into the light and cast his own.
"So this is… pride," I murmured, the realization settling over me like a cold shroud.
The other Takeru smirked, a dark glint in his eyes. "Pride, yes. You're envious because you see yourself as nothing more than a shadow. But here? I am the light. I don't wait for permission, or shrink away because someone else shines brighter. You'd rather stay in your envy, clinging to your anger, too afraid to become something greater."
The accusation stung, each word driving deeper into the hollow pit of resentment inside me. This was a version of myself stripped of doubt, consumed by a confidence so sharp it bordered on cruelty.
"You think you're strong," I said, my voice trembling with rage, "but all you are is blind. You can't see the people around you, the ones who look up to you. You're so full of yourself that you don't care who you trample underfoot!"
His laughter was low, mocking, and it echoed down the corridor. "Care?" he scoffed. "You think caring makes you noble? It makes you weak. That's the difference between us. You let people like Piku lead you, control you. I am the one in control here."
I felt the rage boiling, threatening to consume me, but before I could move, the world around me began to blur again. The images twisted, distorting like ink swirling in water. I reached out, trying to cling to something, but everything slipped away.
The last thing I saw was his face, twisted in a triumphant smirk.
---
My eyes opened to blinding light. I was back in the classroom, Piku's laughter filling the air, as familiar as ever. But as I looked around, a cold dread filled my stomach. Everything looked the same—the desks, the walls, the bustling students—but there was a sense of wrongness I couldn't shake.
I glanced over at Piku, who sat with a group of friends, laughing and joking like nothing had happened. But his smile seemed different, more guarded, almost wary.
A chill crawled up my spine as I looked down at my desk. My name was scrawled in the corner of the table, neatly engraved in letters that were not my own.
Something was off, something I couldn't quite name. I wasn't where I'd been before, and though I'd returned, I knew that everything had changed.