The campfire flickered weakly, its embers struggling against the chill of the encroaching night. Izumi sat on a fallen log near the flames, her knees drawn to her chest as she stared blankly into the dying fire. The glow painted her metallic arm in shades of bronze and crimson, a stark reminder of the countless battles she had fought to get here. Yet none of those struggles compared to the battle raging in her heart now.
Daichi sat across from her, quiet as always, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The soft wind stirred his hair, but his face betrayed no emotion, as if he had already accepted the weight of what they had discovered. The silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive, until Izumi finally couldn't take it anymore.
"I can't believe this," she muttered, her voice cracking as she broke the quiet. She gripped the edge of the log so tightly that her mechanical fingers left dents in the wood. "After everything we've been through, this is how it ends?"
Daichi turned his head slightly, his dark eyes reflecting the faint glow of the fire. "It's not the end, Izumi. It's... the beginning. For everyone else."
"For everyone else," she repeated bitterly, her voice rising. She stood abruptly, pacing in tight circles around the campfire. "What about us, Daichi? What about you? Don't you think your life matters too?" Her chest tightened as she spoke, her words trembling with barely restrained emotion. "You're not just some—some solution to their problem! You're a person. You're Daichi."
His eyes softened, but he didn't move from where he sat. "Izumi," he said gently, his voice low and steady. "You know this is the only way. You've always known."
"No!" she shouted, spinning to face him. The tears she had been holding back began to fall, streaking down her cheeks as her voice cracked. "I refuse to accept that. There has to be another way—we just haven't found it yet. We still have time."
Daichi stood slowly, the firelight casting long shadows across his face. His calmness only made Izumi's heart ache more. "We've searched for answers for weeks," he said, his tone filled with quiet resignation. "And this is the answer we found. You've seen it too, haven't you? In those documents. In everything we've uncovered."
Izumi shook her head violently, backing away from him. "No," she whispered. "I won't let it happen. I won't let you do this." Her voice broke, and she clutched at her chest, as if trying to hold herself together. "Not again."
Daichi crossed the space between them in a few steps, his hands reaching out to gently grasp her shoulders. She froze under his touch, her breath hitching as she looked up at him. His eyes, so calm and steady, seemed to pierce straight through her.
"Izumi," he said softly, his voice tinged with a sadness that he rarely let show. "I'm not afraid to do this. If it means giving humanity a second chance, then it's worth it. I'm worth it." He paused, his gaze locking with hers. "But I need you to be strong. I need you to believe in this—believe in me."
Her lips trembled as she tried to respond, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, a sob escaped her throat, and she crumpled forward, burying her face against his chest. His arms came around her hesitantly, then tightened as if he, too, was clinging to this fleeting moment.
"You don't understand," she whispered against him, her voice muffled and broken. "You're not just another person to me, Daichi. You're... you're everything. You're all I have left."
Daichi's grip on her tightened for a moment, and she thought she felt his chest shudder beneath her. But when he spoke, his voice was calm again, though tinged with a quiet sorrow. "And you're everything to me, Izumi. That's why I have to do this. Not just for them, but for you. So you can live in a world that's whole again."
She pulled back, her glowing eyes searching his face desperately, looking for any sign that he might waver, might change his mind. But all she saw was resolve—a quiet strength that made her heart break even more.
"How can you say that so easily?" she asked, her voice shaking. "How can you just... accept this?"
"It's not easy," he admitted, his expression softening. "But it's what I was made for. It's what I am. And even if I can't remember my past, I know this much: I want to make a difference. I want my life to mean something."
Izumi clenched her fists, her metallic fingers digging into her palms as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. "But it already means something," she whispered. "It means something to me."
For a moment, Daichi's expression wavered, and she thought she saw a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—an emotion he couldn't quite put into words. He reached up, brushing a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "Thank you," he said softly. "For believing in me. For staying with me, even when I couldn't remember why."
"Daichi..." Her voice broke again, and she looked away, unable to bear the tenderness in his gaze.
The fire crackled between them, its light growing dimmer with each passing second. The world around them seemed to hold its breath, the forest eerily quiet, as if even nature understood the gravity of this moment.
"Izumi," he said, his voice a low murmur, "promise me something."
She looked up at him, her glowing eyes filled with anguish. "What?"
"When the time comes," he said, his tone steady but filled with quiet pain, "don't try to stop me. Let me do this."
Her heart twisted at his words, and she shook her head. "I can't," she whispered. "I can't make that promise."
"You can," he said firmly, his hands gently gripping hers. "Because I believe in you. And I need you to believe in me."
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint rustle of the wind. Finally, Izumi closed her eyes, her tears falling freely as she whispered, "I promise."
The words felt like a betrayal, like she was tearing her own heart apart. But she knew it was what Daichi needed to hear.
As the last embers of the fire flickered and died, they stood together in the darkness, their hands clasped tightly, as if holding on to what little time they had left.