The door hissed open, and light spilled into the hall.
Kaito was already there—half-leaning against the wall, snack halfway to his mouth. Emi stood beside him, arms folded, her face unreadable.
Kaito spotted me first. "Well? Don't keep us in suspense, chosen one."
I walked toward them. Legs stiff. Like they still weren't convinced I was back.
"Green," I said. My voice was flat. Practiced. Detached.
"Level 98."
Kaito blinked. Then gave a slow, low whistle. "Damn. They might skip you straight to general. Or throw you in a volcano just to see if you survive."
I let out a breath. Not a laugh. Just enough air to pass for one.
Emi raised an eyebrow. "Ninety-eight?"
"Yeah."
She didn't comment. But her eyes stayed on me—too focused, too quiet. Like she was listening for what I wasn't saying.
Kaito elbowed me. "So? What was it like in there? You cry? See the ghost of your unresolved trauma? Speak now, or forever hold your dramatic silence."
I didn't answer right away.
They waited.
"I saw both of you," I said finally.
The mood dropped—not all the way, but like someone took the needle off the record.
Emi's arms dropped slightly. Kaito straightened.
"You were hurt," I continued. "Buried. Bleeding."
My voice was steady. My chest wasn't.
"There was someone else. Far off. Just… watching."
"Watching?" Kaito asked, his voice softer now.
"I couldn't see their face," I said. "But the Spectra around them was Red."
Emi said nothing. Just looked away, jaw tight.
Kaito scratched the back of his neck. No joke this time. "That's… rough."
"I tried to reach you. Couldn't. So I moved to protect you both. That's when I awakened."
Silence. Not awkward—just heavy.
Then Kaito clapped a hand on my back, just hard enough to jolt me out of it.
"Well, you survived. That counts."
I gave him a look.
He grinned. "And hey—Level 98. That's at least two slices of cake. Three, if your aura doesn't explode the frosting."
"I'll do my best."
Emi's smirk was faint but real. "No promises."
We turned down the corridor.
My hand found the Synchronicity Band on my wrist.
It blinked soft brown. Same color. Same signal.
Still me.
But I could feel it now—under the skin, under the surface.
Not awake. Not gone.
Just waiting.
The walk home should've felt longer.
But we got there too fast.
Kaito was already talking about cake. Emi teased him for forgetting the candles. Their rhythm returned like nothing had changed.
But something had.
I matched their pace. Smiled at the right times. But every word from them felt a little too far away.
By the time we stepped into the house, the air smelled like sweet rice and warm sponge.
Mom looked up from the kitchen and smiled—not wide, but warm. Like she'd been holding the expression for when I walked through the door.
"There's food," she said, waving us toward the living room. "And cake. And if you think passing out in a chair gets you out of dinner, think again."
Kaito gave a dramatic gasp. "This the official Level 98 feast? I might fake a soul awakening just to get invited again."
I grinned on instinct. "Don't push it."
We gathered around the table. Plates clinked. Steam rose. Emi helped set things out while Mom poured tea like it was any other birthday.
Kaito slid a can toward me, popped open his own, and raised it like a toast. "To the Green Giant."
I raised mine. "To the walking cliché."
No one asked what I saw.
No one asked what it meant.
And I didn't volunteer.
It was easier that way.
By the time my father got home, we were halfway through dinner. He stepped inside, slipped off his shoes, and scanned the room.
When his eyes landed on me, he smiled—small, but proud.
"Green, huh?"
"Level 98," Kaito added, mouth full.
My dad's brow lifted. "That'll open some doors."
"Guess I got lucky," I said.
He took his seat, loosened his collar. "With numbers like that, logistics would take you. Tactical. Executive. Could even join the upper coordination branches."
"Or," Kaito said, "Elite Academy."
That made him pause. Not with concern—just calculation.
"You joining them?"
Kaito nodded. "Accepted last week. Emi too."
She gave a subtle nod, eyes still on her plate.
My father looked back at me.
"It's dangerous work. But if it's what you want… I'll support it."
I nodded. "Thanks. I'll think about it."
He gave me a single nod. Didn't push further.
We moved on.
The table stayed full. Laughter came easy—mostly from Kaito. Emi rolled her eyes so often it became punctuation. The candles bent sideways. The frosting cracked.
It looked like a celebration.
It sounded like one.
And I played my part.
Even when the air felt too thick.
Even when the flicker of the candlelight turned red in my mind.
Even when I saw my reflection in the window and it smiled a half-second before I did.
I didn't flinch.
I just let the lie sit there.
Warm. Familiar.
Safe.
Later that night, after the last plate was washed and the laughter had faded into background noise, I sat alone in my room.
The house had gone still. Even Kaito and Emi had gone home without pressing.
I lay back on the mattress, eyes tracing the ceiling—same cracks, same flicker in the overhead light.
Nothing had changed.Except everything had.
The Synchronicity Band blinked once on my wrist. Brown.
I exhaled.
Green. Level 98.It should've meant something.But all I felt was the echo.
The memory.His hand on my face.That voice.
"You will be me. You just haven't lost enough yet."
I turned. Shut my eyes. It didn't help.The darkness behind my lids was louder than the silence around me.
Time passed. Minutes. Maybe hours.Eventually… sleep took me.
Not gently.It dragged.
The house was quiet.Not silent—just still in the way that only happens when everyone else is gone.
A dish clicked faintly in the sink. A door creaked somewhere down the hall.The vent hummed like it always did. Just a little too loud.
I rolled onto my side.The Synchronicity Band blinked again. Soft. Brown.
Still me.I told myself that enough times, it almost felt true.
My muscles ached in that strange, aftershock kind of way. Like my body was still catching up to what my soul had been through.
The warmth of dinner clung to the walls. Laughter from earlier echoed faintly in my skull—Kaito's dumb jokes, Emi's dry remarks, my parents' quiet pride.
It should've been enough.
But when I closed my eyes, I still saw him.Red. Me. Renji.Smiling like he already knew how this ended.
I exhaled. Let the dark take me.
The transition wasn't jarring. It just… happened.
Like blinking mid-thought and opening your eyes in the wrong world.
I was standing.
The air felt cold, but not bitter. Still. Stale.
Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead—white and flickering slightly, like they were trying too hard to stay alive.
The floor beneath me was tile—polished but scuffed, the kind you'd find in hospitals or old government buildings. The smell was faint: dust, old paper, something sterile that didn't belong in dreams.
I turned.
Endless hallway behind me. The same ahead.
And I wasn't alone.
"You always looked tired when you didn't know you were."
The voice hit like a chord I hadn't heard in years.
Low. Familiar. Calm, in a way that made my chest cave in a little.
I turned.
A man stood near the far wall, hands in his pockets, slouched like he'd been there a while. Shirt wrinkled. Tie loose. Hair slightly grayed at the temples.
I knew that stance.
That face.
The weight behind those eyes.
My father.
From before.
Not Masato Ramou.Not this life.The one before.My father—Renji's father.
He didn't smile. Didn't speak again right away.
Just looked at me like he knew exactly what I'd become… and what I'd still have to lose.
My breath caught. My limbs locked in place.
I didn't speak.
Because if I did—if I made this real—I was afraid he'd disappear.
He didn't smile.Didn't speak again right away.
Just looked at me.
Like he knew.Like he'd always known.
And suddenly, I was a child again—small, uncertain, standing in the shadow of a man who never raised his voice but still made the world feel quieter when he spoke.
My throat closed.
I hadn't heard his voice in years.Not even in memories.Not like this.
Then—softly, like the beginning of something I wasn't ready for—
"You've changed, Renji."