"Daichi… Daichi…"
A voice called out to me—soft, warm, familiar. It drifted through the void like a distant melody, stirring something deep inside me.
I felt weightless, floating in a place that wasn't quite real yet wasn't a dream either. My body was wrapped in an unfamiliar calmness, a stark contrast to the chaos I had endured.
Slowly, my eyes fluttered open.
Light poured into my vision, hazy and golden, like the first gentle rays of morning. I blinked, trying to adjust, and as the world came into focus, my breath caught in my throat.
I was lying in a bed—my bed.
The room around me was bathed in soft sunlight, streaming lazily through sheer curtains. It was impossibly familiar. The wooden desk in the corner, cluttered with pens and half-finished homework. The shelves lined with books and old toys, untouched by time. The posters of my favorite shows still tacked to the walls, just as I had left them.
My chest tightened.
This was my childhood room.
I sat up abruptly, my hands gripping the sheets as my mind raced to make sense of what I was seeing. My breath came in short, uneven gasps as I turned my gaze to my trembling hands.
Small. Too small.
The realization sent a chill down my spine. I scrambled out of bed and stumbled towards the mirror, nearly knocking over a chair in my haste.
The moment I saw my reflection, my heart stopped.
Staring back at me was a boy.
Dark, slightly unkempt hair. Wide, familiar eyes.
My eight-year-old self.
I staggered backward, gripping the edge of my desk for support.
"This… this can't be real," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Panic surged through me. My mind scrambled to find an explanation, but nothing made sense. I turned to the window, throwing the curtains open with trembling hands.
Outside, the street I had known all my life stretched before me, untouched by the passage of time. The trees stood tall, their leaves swaying gently in the breeze. The sky was the same soft blue I had memorized from childhood.
Everything was exactly as I remembered it.
A clock on the bedside table caught my eye.
2017.
The year glowed softly in the dim morning light.
A sharp breath hitched in my throat. My body trembled.
No. No, this isn't possible.
Was it all a dream?
The battles, the pain, Izumi, Alter Daichi… Was none of it real?
A sudden, searing pain flared on the back of my palm, making me wince. I clutched my hand, my heartbeat hammering in my ears. The sensation was too real, too vivid to be an illusion.
Then, in that instant, it all came rushing back.
Izumi's voice. Her laughter. Her tears. The warmth of her presence. The agony of our parting. The final moments before everything faded.
I sucked in a sharp breath.
It wasn't a dream.
Everything—the sacrifices, the suffering—it was all real.
I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping my trembling hand over my heart. My chest ached, filled with emotions too raw to contain.
I had made it.
I had returned.
A soft knock at the door snapped me from my thoughts.
"Daichi, are you awake? You're going to be late for school," a gentle voice called out.
I froze. My breath caught in my throat.
That voice…
Mom?
The sound of it washed over me like a tidal wave, warm and familiar, yet distant, as if pulled from the depths of a memory I had thought lost. My lips parted, but no words came.
Then, as if on instinct, my voice cracked as I answered, "Y-Yes, Mom."
The words felt foreign, heavy with emotions I couldn't begin to describe.
I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself. My hands clenched into fists.
I had been given another chance.
I didn't know why. I didn't know how.
But I would not waste it.
I would not lose everything again.
The morning passed in a blur. Breakfast, packing my bag, stepping out into the fresh morning air—it all felt surreal, like walking through a dream I had long since forgotten.
As I made my way to school, my gaze caught on a single flower growing by the roadside.
It was a small, delicate bloom, its petals shimmering faintly in the morning light. There was something strangely familiar about it—something otherworldly, as if it didn't quite belong here.
I stared at it for a long moment, then smiled softly.
"Thank you… for everything," I murmured under my breath.
Far away, in a different reality, another world stood on the edge of uncertainty.
A war raged on, relentless and unforgiving.
Yet, amidst the chaos, on a quiet field of swaying grass, two figures stood together—watching the horizon as the setting sun painted the sky in shades of gold and crimson.
Alter Daichi and Alter Izumi.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, they laughed.
It was a fragile sound—light, yet carrying the weight of all they had endured. Their hands intertwined, fingers laced together as if afraid to let go.
Despite the uncertain future that awaited them, despite the trials that would inevitably come…
They had made a promise.
A promise to move forward.
To change their fate.
To carve a new path, one not bound by the echoes of their past.
As the last rays of sunlight kissed the battlefield, their voices rang clear.
"We'll keep fighting," Alter Daichi murmured.
"No matter what happens," Alter Izumi added, her grip tightening.
And with that, they stepped forward—into the unknown.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, a question lingered in the air.
Would they change the future this time?
Or would fate repeat itself?
For now, those questions remained unanswered.
Because what mattered most… was the promise they had made.
A promise that transcended time, space, and reality itself.
A promise of love.
A promise of hope.
And those promises… would remain eternal.
But with that promise came an undeniable truth.
That my journey was only just beginning.
To be continued…