Akio found himself in a room that couldn't possibly exist. White. Empty. Without doors or windows. He felt like he was floating, though he wasn't moving. Everything around him was surreal, yet undeniably real. A door materialized before him—massive and foreign—but it didn't open. Still, voices seeped through. At first, they whispered, barely audible. Then they grew louder, more intrusive.
"Akio, what are you doing here?" Kiyomi's voice was stern.
"You shouldn't be here," added Mrs. Wirsing's voice.
"Can you help me for a second?" Auron asked casually.
"Don't listen to them," Sophie murmured.
The voices multiplied, overlapping until they became indistinguishable. Then, a deep, unfamiliar voice emerged:
"You hate him, don't you?"
"No!" Akio shook his head violently. "I don't hate anyone!"
"Your father."
The words struck deep, a weight he could barely carry.
"Leave me alone!" Akio shouted, but the voices persisted.
"You're a disgrace!"
"The biggest crybaby of all!"
"You're not worth it!"
Akio clamped his hands over his ears, but the words pierced directly into his mind. They echoed, multiplied. The white room around him began to change—gray shadows creeping along the walls, which then started to crack.
"You're alone!" the deep voice roared again. "You're nothing!"
Suddenly, another voice broke through, soft yet powerful, like a beam of light in the darkness:
"You're not alone. I'm here with you."
Akio felt a wave of calm and hope. Colors swirled through the room: blue, turquoise, yellow. But the relief was fleeting. The colors faded, and the dark voice reclaimed control.
"It's over, Akio. You've lost everything."
The voices of rejection returned, louder and more relentless.
"I never wanted a son like you!"
"You're not worth my time!"
"I hate you, Akio!"
The words penetrated him, making him stagger. Tears streamed down his face, but even his tears felt hollow.
"Please, stop! I don't want this!" Akio screamed.
"Didn't you say you had no regrets?" The deep voice was mocking now, almost laughing.
"I… I don't want them to hate me!" Akio cried.
"Then give yourself to me."
Akio hesitated. The voices grew louder still, unbearable.
"Yes, please, I'll give you everything! Just make it stop!"
"So be it."
The room fell silent. The walls stopped trembling. A door appeared. Akio reached out and opened it, and…
---
He woke up in his bed. His head felt heavy, as though he had climbed out of a deep abyss. Kiyomi sat beside him, cradling his head in her hands.
"Akio! What happened? Tell me what's wrong!" Her voice was filled with concern.
"Mama? My head hurts…"
"Akio, you fell. Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?"
"I… I don't know."
His words faltered. The memory of the voices was still fresh, as though they had been real.
"Mama… you don't hate me, do you?" he asked hesitantly.
Kiyomi gently pulled him into a hug. "Why would you think that? Akio, I could never hate you."
"But… but they all hate me!" Tears streamed down Akio's face once more.
"That's not true. Nobody hates you. It was just a dream, Akio. A terrible dream."
Akio shook his head. "No, it was more than that. It felt so real! They all said it—Papa, you, my friends. They don't want me!"
"Akio, listen to me." Kiyomi's voice was firm but warm. "Dreams are not reality. Nobody hates you. Your father loves you. Your friends care about you. And I… I love you more than anything else."
Akio hesitated, but the soothing power of her words began to calm him. The voice from his dream had been so overwhelming, so real. Yet in his mother's arms, he felt safe again, if only for a moment.
For the next few days, Akio stayed in bed. The ordeal had drained him, both physically and emotionally. Kiyomi stayed by his side, reading him stories and constantly reassuring him that he was loved.
Akio tried to believe it was just a dream. But deep inside, he knew the dark voice wasn't done with him. Not yet.