Back to where Shiro and the gang were.
Nothing unusual happened after they went inside the shop. As always, Arien was full of excitement, and Sato enjoyed his meal slowly. Both Arien and Sato expected Shiro to devour everything he saw, acting like a vacuum for food.
But Shiro didn't show that much connection to the scene. He picked at his meal, his movements listless, his distant gaze fixed on nothing within the cozy, lamplit interior of the eatery. The aromas of spiced meat and baking bread that usually animated him seemed to leave him cold.
Sato's mind quickly ran through a past memory of Shiro—the boy who could sleep through anything but always woke with a voracious appetite. This quiet detachment was wrong.
Shiro: Can we head back now? I don't feel that good.
His voice was flat, devoid of its usual lazy cadence. Sato and Arien exchanged a worried glance.
Sato: O-okay.
Arien: So-sorry.
Shiro looked at Arien, a faint flicker of confusion in his eyes.
Shiro: Why are you apologising?
Arien: Well, after we left the guild building, you looked pale... but I'm the one who said it was okay to keep going.
Shiro smiled a little, a ghost of his usual expression.
Shiro: Idiot. I said I was fine that time. But I don't feel well now.
He smiled saying that, but it didn't reach his eyes.
Sato: Well, it's getting late too. So perfect timing.
And after that, the gang left for the academy again. With a glance, no one could say that there was anything wrong with Shiro. He always kept that untroubled look on his face, as if he were unaffected. His steps were even, his posture as languid as ever, a masterful performance of normalcy.
But when the gang reached near the academy grounds, that was when it really hit Shiro.
Until then, even though he said he was feeling unwell, it only truly showed when he got near the academy's looming outer wall. It was as if crossing an invisible threshold amplified a silent sickness a thousandfold.
Shiro suddenly collapsed to his knees. The impact was soft on the grassy path, but the shock of it froze Arien and Sato for a heartbeat. Then, quickly, both of them grabbed onto Shiro, their hands under his arms, holding him up.
Both of them were calling out Shiro's name, but he didn't hear anything. The world had narrowed to a pounding, suffocating pressure inside his own skull. Shiro's hand clenched over his chest, knuckles white against the fabric of his yellow-white shirt. He was looking upward, but his eyes were unfocused, seeing nothing. His hand tightened near his chest as if he couldn't breathe. And then, he suddenly fell over, unconscious, his full weight dropping into their desperate hold.
Time passed slowly.
Shiro started to get consciousness slowly, and he heard voices calling in the background, muffled and distant as if through deep water.
???: That's all. Other than that, he'll be fine.
???: Thank god.
???: Well, I'm going to leave now. If something happens, contact me.
???: We'll do that then.
As the voices spoke in the background, Shiro slowly opened his eyes. He knew that the voices that came early were Arien and Sato, but there was no one there now.
All there was, was a fully white, blank space that stretched farther and farther away no matter where he looked. It was a void without horizon, without feature, without end. And Shiro, who had been lying down just a second before, was standing now, the transition seamless and disorienting.
Shiro looked around, but no matter where he looked, it was an empty, endless space. A profound, echoing silence pressed in on him.
???: Lonely, isn't it?
A voice came from behind him. It was a voice he had never heard before, but at the same time, it was so familiar it made his skin prickle.
Shiro quickly turned around to see who it was, but no one was there.
???: Why act so surprised? It's your second time here. Don't you remember?
The voice again, but this time it was from behind once more. Just as Shiro heard that, he spun around—and this time, he was able to see who it was.
???: Wow. Your instincts sure are sharp.
It was a boy with white hair around shoulder length. He had ice-blue eyes. And he stood tall, his posture perfect, his presence undeniable. He was nothing but eye-catching.
An exact replica of Shiro.
Shiro: You... who... are you?
The replica Shiro tilted his head to the right and asked with a soft, surprised voice.
???: You don't know me?
Shiro got close to his fake counterpart, his own movements mirrored perfectly. He stopped mere inches away, his voice a low whisper.
Shiro: What is this place? And what are you? A replica? A fake?
Both Shiros faced each other, their ice-blue eyes locked in an impossible stare. And then, the real Shiro we know fell. Suddenly, there was a hole in the non-existent ground. As he fell, the other Shiro looked down at him, expressionless.
And then, the Shiro we know fell from the sky. It was really confusing for him, the orientation of the void shifting without logic. Just as Shiro braced for the impact, he stopped, hanging upside down in the air, suspended by nothing.
The other Shiro walked near him, calmly stepping across the void. They were standing face-to-face, one standing on the ground, one standing on the sky.
???: You say that I'm a fake, right? Then let me ask you... are you real?
With that, Shiro fell to the ground—but the ground was soft, almost like a marshmallow. He just bounced off it lightly, rolling onto his back.
???: Well, you asked me who I am, right?
The other Shiro turned around and looked down at the Shiro we know, his ice-blue gaze piercing.
???: I'm... you.