The ancient facility buzzed with chaotic energy, its walls trembling as if the very structure was protesting against what was about to happen. Sparks rained from frayed wires, the cold, sterile lighting flickering in and out, casting erratic shadows on the cracked floor. Izumi stood frozen at the edge of the platform, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely hear the hum of the machinery around her.
Daichi stepped onto the platform in the center of the room, his figure illuminated by a harsh beam of light. The glow outlined every detail of him—his worn boots, the faded jacket he had patched so many times, and the calm determination on his face. To Izumi, he looked like a statue carved by fate itself, unyielding and untouchable.
But he wasn't untouchable. He was leaving.
"Daichi!" Izumi's voice cracked as she called out to him, her fists clenching at her sides. Her metal arm creaked under the strain, and she couldn't stop the tremble in her voice as she pleaded, "Please, just stop for a second. We don't have to do this. We can find another way."
Daichi turned to face her, his dark eyes meeting hers. For a moment, they softened, and she caught a glimpse of something deeply human behind them—pain, regret, and maybe even love. But his voice was steady when he spoke, though it carried the weight of the decision he had already made. "Izumi... you know we've run out of options. This is the only way."
"It doesn't have to be!" she shouted, her voice rising above the hum of the machines. She took a shaky step forward, the photograph in her hand crumpling under her grip. "We can try again. We've found so much already. There's something—anything—else we can do. Just give me more time!"
Daichi's lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. He stepped closer to the edge of the platform, his shadow stretching toward her. "How much more time, Izumi? Another week? Another year? You've seen the same data I have. Every second we delay, the world slips further away. I was created for this. I'm meant to do this."
Izumi shook her head violently, her hair whipping around her face. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and she pointed a trembling finger at him. "You don't have to be what they made you for! You're more than that—you're more than just a tool! You're Daichi! You're... you're my partner. My..."
Her voice faltered, and the words she wanted to say caught in her throat. She gritted her teeth, her tears finally spilling over. "You're my family, Daichi. You're all I have left. And I'm not ready to lose you again."
Daichi's expression flickered—just for a moment—and Izumi thought she saw his resolve waver. He stepped down from the platform, walking toward her slowly. When he reached her, he placed his hands gently on her shoulders, grounding her in place.
"Izumi," he murmured, his voice low and tender, "you've been by my side through everything. Even when I couldn't remember who I was, you believed in me. You gave me a reason to fight, to keep going. And I'll never be able to thank you enough for that." He paused, his grip on her shoulders tightening ever so slightly. "But this... this is my purpose. And if it means I can give you—and everyone else—a chance at a real future, then it's worth it."
Her knees buckled, and she grabbed onto his jacket for support, shaking her head in denial. "You don't get it," she choked out. "I don't want a future if you're not in it. I'd rather—" Her voice broke, and she let out a sob. "I'd rather we just disappear together than live in a world without you."
Daichi's hands moved to cradle her face, his thumbs gently brushing away her tears. His gaze was impossibly kind, yet unbearably sad. "Don't say that," he whispered. "You're stronger than that. You're stronger than me."
"No, I'm not," she argued, her voice trembling. "I'm not strong, Daichi. I'm just someone who doesn't want to be alone anymore."
He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes as he held her. For a moment, the world outside the facility disappeared. It was just the two of them, suspended in a fragile, fleeting moment of intimacy. "You're not alone, Izumi," he said softly. "You'll never be alone. I'll always be with you."
Her tears fell freely now, soaking the fabric of his jacket as she clung to him. "Then stay," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Please, stay with me."
Daichi exhaled shakily, his breath warm against her skin. "If I could..." His voice trailed off, and he pulled back, looking into her eyes. "If I could, I'd stay. But you and I both know this is the only way."
"No!" she cried, gripping his arms tightly as if she could anchor him to her side. "It's not fair, Daichi! You don't deserve this! You deserve a life—a real life!"
His smile returned, soft and sad. "Maybe in another world, I could've had that. But this... this is the life I was given. And I'm choosing to make it matter."
The hum of the machine grew louder, the lights in the room flickering wildly as the system prepared to activate. Daichi stepped back toward the platform, his movements slow and deliberate. Izumi reached out for him, her voice breaking as she screamed, "Daichi! Please!"
He paused on the platform, turning to look at her one last time. "Thank you, Izumi," he said, his voice filled with an aching sincerity. "For everything."
Before she could respond, the machine roared to life. A beam of searing light engulfed the platform, and Daichi's body began to dissolve into shimmering particles. His figure blurred, fading into pure energy as if the universe itself was reclaiming him.
"No!" Izumi screamed, her legs finally giving out beneath her. She collapsed to the ground, her hands outstretched as if she could pull him back. "Daichi!"
The light flared brighter, blinding her, and then—silence. The hum of the machine stopped, leaving an unbearable stillness in its wake. The platform was empty.
Izumi knelt there, paralyzed, her breath ragged and uneven. The photograph slipped from her trembling fingers, fluttering to the floor like a broken promise. She stared at the empty space where Daichi had stood, her mind refusing to accept what her heart already knew.
He was gone.
And then, the impossible happened.
When Izumi stumbled out of the facility, the world was no longer the barren wasteland it had been. The streets were alive—alive with people. They walked and talked and laughed, their lives moving forward as if the calamity that had erased humanity had never occurred.
Izumi stood frozen, her wide eyes darting between the strangers who passed her without a second glance. A man carrying a bag of groceries brushed past her. A woman walked by with a child, their laughter ringing out like music in the air.
"What... is this?" Izumi whispered, her voice trembling. Her chest ached as she clutched at it, struggling to understand. "What's happening?"
No one answered. No one even noticed her.
She turned back toward the facility, her legs unsteady, and saw the photograph lying forgotten on the ground. She couldn't bring herself to pick it up. Not now. Not when everything felt so... wrong.
The world had been restored. Humanity had returned.
But at what cost?