The classroom felt like a cage, every second stretching into eternity as I tried to steady my breathing. Piku's gaze burned into me from across the room, but I couldn't meet his eyes. My mind was trapped in the last reality, in the anger that still felt too close, too raw.
I shut my eyes, hoping the lingering darkness would fade, but instead, I saw him—the wrathful Takeru, fists clenched, blood dripping, each drop carrying the weight of my buried fury. I wanted to be free of him, of every version of myself that waited in these twisted realities, but it seemed like every step forward only sank me deeper.
A laugh, soft and cruel, echoed in my mind, and my eyes snapped open. The mysterious girl—the one who'd been tormenting me, always just out of reach. She was nowhere in sight, yet I could feel her presence, like a shadow that wouldn't leave.
Takeru, her voice taunted, low and mocking. You're not getting out of this until you understand. You can run from your wrath, your pride, your envy… but they're all a part of you. Face them, or let them devour you.
I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to scream. "I don't want this," I muttered under my breath, the words barely audible. But even as I said it, I knew the truth—no matter how much I resisted, something inside me was drawn to these other versions of myself, each twisted in ways I didn't fully understand.
I looked back at Piku, who had returned to his usual spot, laughing with friends as if nothing had changed. But his laughter sounded different now, hollow and distant, as if he, too, was slipping out of reach. I wondered how many times I'd heard that laughter, only to end up reliving this nightmare.
The world around me started to shimmer, the classroom dissolving, and I realized, with a sudden pang of dread, that I was being pulled into another reality.
---
When the world settled again, I was standing in the middle of a crowded street, the sky overhead a sickly shade of red, casting an ominous glow over the buildings around me. The air was thick, stifling, every breath tasting like smoke and ash.
I looked down, my hands trembling as they clutched something cold and hard. A metal pipe, stained dark with something that looked suspiciously like blood. My fingers refused to release it, as if the weapon had become an extension of myself.
A sense of dread washed over me, my heart hammering in my chest as I took in my surroundings. I was surrounded by shattered windows, overturned trash cans, and graffiti scrawled in angry, jagged letters across the walls. The street looked like a battlefield, the remnants of a violent clash littered around me, each broken piece a testament to a rage that had left nothing untouched.
And then I saw him.
Another Takeru, standing at the end of the street, his clothes torn and stained, his face twisted with an expression of pure, unrestrained fury. His eyes burned with a hatred so intense it seemed to sear the air between us, and I could feel his anger radiating in waves, thick and suffocating.
He met my gaze, and a slow, mocking smile crept across his face. "Well, well," he drawled, his voice a low growl. "The coward finally shows up."
My grip on the pipe tightened involuntarily, as if his words had set something off inside me. "I'm not a coward," I shot back, the anger bubbling up before I could stop it.
"Oh, really?" he sneered, taking a step forward, his gaze never leaving mine. "Then why do you keep running? Why do you keep hiding behind excuses, pretending you're better than this?"
I forced myself to take a deep breath, trying to calm the rage clawing at me. "You're not me. I'm not… like this."
He laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed down the empty street. "Not like this? You're exactly like this. You've been hiding it for so long you actually believe your own lies. But deep down, you know the truth."
He took another step forward, his eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction. "You want to hurt people. You want to see them break, to make them feel the pain you've carried alone. That's why you keep coming back to Piku, isn't it? He's just a reminder of everything you're too weak to be."
"Shut up," I hissed, but the words came out shaky, betraying the turmoil twisting inside me.
"Oh, what's wrong?" he taunted, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Did I hit a nerve? Poor, pathetic Takeru. Always pretending to be the good guy, but we both know the truth. You're a time bomb, just waiting to go off."
The rage surged, red-hot and overwhelming, and before I could stop myself, I took a step forward, the pipe in my hand feeling heavy, solid, deadly. The urge to lash out, to silence his mocking voice, was almost unbearable.
But then I saw the look in his eyes—the hunger, the anticipation. He wanted this. He wanted me to give in, to become the monster he saw in me.
I forced myself to stop, to unclench my fists, to let the pipe drop to the ground with a dull clatter. The sound echoed through the empty street, hollow and final.
His smile faltered, a flash of irritation crossing his face. "What's the matter?" he snarled, his tone sharp, dangerous. "Too weak to finish what you started?"
I shook my head, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. "No. I'm not weak. And I'm not you."
For a moment, he just stared at me, his expression twisting with something that looked almost like disappointment. But then his gaze hardened, and the anger in his eyes flared brighter, hotter.
"You think you can just walk away from this?" he spat, his voice laced with venom. "You can't escape what's inside you. The anger, the hatred—it's all you are. Sooner or later, you'll break, and when you do, there'll be nothing left but the monster you've tried so hard to bury."
His words hung in the air, seething with rage and bitterness, but I forced myself to take a step back, to turn away. The fury still pulsed inside me, a heavy, burning weight, but I refused to let it control me.
Behind me, his voice rose, harsh and mocking, but I kept walking, each step feeling like a battle won. I didn't know if I could ever be free of him, of the anger that clung to me like a shadow, but for now, I had chosen to turn away, to keep moving forward.
---
The world blurred again, shifting, and I stumbled, feeling a rush of dizziness as reality rearranged itself around me.
When my vision cleared, I found myself standing in a quiet room, the dim light casting long shadows across the walls. The air was thick with an oppressive silence, and an unsettling, metallic smell filled my lungs.
I looked down, my heart sinking as I saw bloodstains smeared across the floor, a trail leading to a figure slumped in the corner, his back turned to me. My pulse quickened as I took a hesitant step forward, dread curling in my stomach.
The figure shifted slightly, and I felt my blood run cold as he turned to face me.
Piku.
His eyes were wide, filled with an almost animalistic rage, his face contorted into something unrecognizable. His hands were coated in blood, his fingers curling into claws as he glared at me with a hatred so intense it felt like a physical blow.
"Why… did you do this to me, Takeru?" His voice was a low, guttural whisper, each word dripping with malice.
I took a step back, horror twisting inside me as I realized I had crossed into another world, another reflection of my own darkness.
This was the reality of wrath.
And this time, I wasn't facing a version of myself.
This time, I was facing Piku.