Darkness receded like a tide pulling back from the shore, and the first thing I became aware of was light—too bright, too sharp, stabbing at my eyes like someone had peeled back the lid of a coffin and dragged me out into the sun.
My eyelids twitched. They felt heavy, like they weren't mine. Like I wasn't even sure if I wanted to open them.
Why can't I move?
Shapes blurred above me—bodies, maybe. Their outlines shimmered like they didn't want to be real. Voices, too, drifting in and out like static. Alien tones. Not a single word made sense.
Where am I?
This wasn't a hospital. No beeping monitors. No IV drips. No antiseptic in the air. Instead, it smelled like old wood and burned herbs. Like a funeral parlor in the middle of a forest.
Everything felt wrong.
A blanket pinned me down. Thick. Heavy. Oppressive.
Why do I feel so small?
I tried to speak. But my mouth betrayed me. All that came out was a wet, helpless gurgle.
And then came the hand. Large, rough-skinned, brushing my cheek with the gentleness you reserve for fragile things. I flinched. Instinct. My entire body recoiled inside.
Because in my world, hands meant pain.
Hands meant Tobashi.
Who…?
And then—just like that—the light vanished.
Back to black.
Just like before. But this time, no aching ribs. No ringing in my ears. No cold concrete under my cheek where I'd been left to bleed.
Just silence.
Nothingness.
And then a voice.
"Welcome, Takuya."
It echoed in the black like it knew it didn't belong. My breath caught in my chest.
How does it know my name?
"Who… How…"
I tried to sound brave. Instead, I sounded like I always did—small. Weak. The kid who never got to be anything else.
"Don't worry," the voice said, low and calm. "We've met before."
My skin crawled.
"Are you… 'The one that I was waiting for' guy?"
God, just tell me what the hell is going on.
"Doesn't matter now. Takuya Sugino."
"How do you know my name?"
I hated how my voice cracked. Hated how it still sounded like the voice I used to beg with. The voice Tobashi laughed at.
"You've died, Takuya. But you've accepted my offer. So I gave you a second chance."
Second chance?
I almost laughed. It came out sharp and hollow.
Alive? I felt more like a memory wearing a skin suit. I had nothing left. I was tired of waking up.
"Is this some kind of sick joke? You're one of Tobashi's friends, right? Just screwing with me from beyond the grave? Going to hit me when I let my guard down?"
Silence.
Because of course. Even death isn't interested in answering me.
Then came the whisper.
"Tobashi died alongside you."
The words dropped like a stone in my chest.
Tobashi… dead?
Part of me wanted to scream.
Another part wanted to laugh. Or cry.
"Am I free now?"
No one answered.
Just like always.
"What's this place?"
"My sanctuary."
Sure. Of course it is. Real helpful.
"You mean?.."
"The place you're in right now. Is a sanctuary of mine."
"And you are?.."
"You know the answer."
No. I don't. And I'm sick of pretending like I do.
"Have I really died? Tobashi threw me into the road... and I just—?"
"Indeed."
"So who were those people I saw—"
Sudden pain knifed through my skull. I cried out.
"Your parents."
No. That's wrong. My mother never looked like that. And I didn't have a father.
"Takuya Sugino. You've been reborn. I gave you a second chance."
Reborn.
It didn't feel like salvation. It felt like punishment.
"Reborn?!"
No answer.
Just that endless black.
Then—
Light.
And I was crying.
Not just noise. Not just tears.
A full-body, primal scream. The kind that doesn't stop just because your lungs want it to.
I couldn't control it.
I didn't want to.
My entire chest burned from the force of it.
After everything I went through—after the beatings, the silence, the bruises they didn't bother to hide anymore—I was supposed to just accept this?
Just be grateful?
A woman leaned over me.
Not my mother. But warm. Gentle. Her voice soft like wind through leaves. She said something I didn't understand.
I didn't care.
Her hand touched my cheek, and I didn't flinch this time.
It didn't feel like Tobashi.
It didn't feel like pain.
But I still couldn't stop crying.
Because deep down, I wasn't convinced this was better.
Because I didn't trust any of it.
I lay there, screaming like a helpless baby, because that's all I was now—again. But the part of me that remembered everything? That older piece of me buried somewhere behind those infant eyes?
He was breaking.
Not because he was weak—but because he'd already held on for too long.
For years, I told myself to survive.
To keep quiet.
To keep my head down.
To not look people in the eyes because Tobashi didn't like that.
To not flinch when they kicked me again.
To stop crying because crying only made them laugh harder.
I spent so much time enduring that I forgot how to exist without fear.
And now, suddenly, I'm free?
No chains. No fists. No blood in my mouth or boots to my ribs.
Just warmth. Soft voices. Clean sheets.
And I don't know what the hell to do with that.
What if this is just another trick?
What if this is like all those days where the bullying stopped—only to hit harder the next time? What if they're just letting me breathe before they drown me again?
Because that's how it always went.
Always.
I was a joke in my old life. Something to laugh at. Something to hurt.
A name scribbled on a bathroom stall. A face no one defended. A voice no one heard until it was broken.
And now they want me to start over?
To forget?
Like it never happened?
No. I won't forget.
Even if this is a second chance, I'll carry that pain with me.
Because it's mine.
And maybe—just maybe—it'll help me make sure nobody ever does that to me again.
Not in this life.
Not ever.