???: I'm... you.
The Shiro we know, confused, took a step back. The void seemed to tilt with his disorientation.
Shiro: Wha-what did you say?
???: Didn't you hear me?
The other Shiro started to grow. Not just in size, but in presence, his form expanding to dominate the white horizon.
???: I-AM-YOU!
When he finished those words, the Shiro we know was the size of an ant. But it wasn't that he grew smaller—the other Shiro grew larger, a titan in this formless place. And with that, the other Shiro raised his leg and stepped on Shiro.
The white world crumbled, shattering like glass. Then, the fragments of reality suddenly squeezed into one, dense point of light. And then—
POP.
Shiro opened his eyes again. When he opened his eyes, he was in the market that he had been in with Arien and Sato. The scene was vibrant and loud, a perfect replica. People were walking around, chatting, laughing, but no one paid him any mind. Shiro raised his hand toward a passing merchant, but the man didn't react. His hand passed through a basket of apples as if it were mist. And then, suddenly, someone walked through him, their form dissolving into a brief chill before reforming on the other side.
That was the time Shiro realized this wasn't real.
???: They can't see you, you know.
Shiro turned around and saw the other Shiro walking toward him, his steps silent on the cobblestones that weren't really there.
Shiro: What is this place? Where am I?
???: It's good to be able to walk around on a road like that, right? And while you enjoy your time, I'm stuck in here with him.
The other Shiro's voice never raised. It was always the same, calm, measured sound, devoid of true emotion.
Shiro: Him? Stuck? I asked you, what the hell is this place?
The other Shiro turned around, fully facing him. Then, he raised his hand and with a snap of his fingers—flick—the world changed again.
It was back to the pure white expanse, with no horizon, no up or down.
???: This world was a creation of us. But it wasn't you who made it, and it wasn't me who made it. It was him.
Shiro tried to run toward him, but he couldn't. No matter how hard he pumped his legs, how frantically he scrambled, he remained in the same place, as if the void itself rejected his effort.
Shiro: Who are you referring to? Who is 'him'? And what the hell is this?
???: Calm down. And I have a name, you know?
Shiro realized, with a sinking feeling, that this world was under the other self's complete control. So he stopped, forcing his breathing to steady.
Shiro: Let me guess? It's my name?
The other Shiro started smiling. So hard he was holding his stomach and had to sit on the non-existent ground, his shoulders shaking with silent, mirthless laughter.
Shiro: Wh-what's so funny?
???: Why would you think I have a dumb name like Shiro Asahina?
The other Shiro stood up slowly, wiping a non-existent tear from his eye.
???: My name is Akira Kurosawa. I am you. But different.
Shiro: Kuro...sawa?
Akira: I was the one who lived in the past that you don't remember.
Shiro took a step toward him, the movement finally allowed.
Shiro: In the past... that I don't... remember?
Akira: Oh, don't worry. I won't tell you what the past was.
Akira turned around and walked to a position opposite Shiro. As he walked, a small cliff appeared beneath him, materializing from the white nothingness. He stood on its edge, looking down at Shiro.
Akira: Well, you asked about this place, right? Then let me explain it to you.
Akira raised his hand to the side, and a small, silent wind passed by him, stirring his white hair.
Akira: This world's creation was a mistake. It was not meant to happen. And the one who caused it was our other self. The other one who was here with me. And as you can see, I can manipulate this world as I like.
With Akira's imagination, he could change the shape of this world. That's how he was able to make Shiro fall and stop him mid-air. The very physics of this place were his to command.
Akira: Oh, and I'm sorry for the mess I caused when I got control. They are still your friends right?
Shiro snapped, his patience fraying, and the part of the world around him began to warp and pixelate with his frustration.
Shiro: I don't care about what you did! Just tell me what the hell you are, and what the hell this place is!
Akira: I don't think it's good to raise your voice in here.
Shiro: Eh?
Akira: He is not that talkative, you know. He never tells me his real name but he calls himself The Sovereign. And he named me The Keeper. Well—he is just another one of us, but...
Shiro: But what?
Akira: I'm strong too, you know. But I get the feeling dishonoring him would be... bad.
Shiro: What the hell are you saying? Is he the one who made me unable to breathe?
Akira: Oh, don't misunderstand us. Neither he nor I have anything to gain by doing that. Well, the reason you were unable to breathe at that morment, probably because she died. I think.
Shiro: Died. Who? And nothing to gain? So you'd kill me if that was good for you two?
Akira smiled and replied, his ice-blue eyes glinting.
Akira: Who knows.
And then, suddenly, both Akira and Shiro dropped to their knees. An immense, silent pressure filled the void, a weight of attention that was ancient, vast, and utterly cold.
Akira: Looks like he is here.
Without a second to spare, Akira got near Shiro, closing the distance instantly. He placed his hand on Shiro's forehead. His touch was like ice.
Akira: Go back. One of us always needs to be there. Oh, and the name he marked you as—
???: He's waking up!
???: Is he?
With a distant voice coming again, the connection severed. Shiro opened his eyes for the third time. In front of him stood Sato and Arien. He was lying in a clean bed in the academy's nursing section, the sterile scent of antiseptic in the air.
Sato: Shiro? What happened?
Arien: It looked like you were having a nightmare.
Shiro's mind was a blur, the memories of the white void and Akira already fading, slipping away like smoke. He grasped at them, but they dissolved.
Shiro: I... don't... remember...
Sato: Well, take a nap, okay? We'll come back later.
Arien: We'll see you later. Bye.
Shiro raised a heavy hand and waved back at them weakly. As they turned to leave, their footsteps receding, he suddenly heard a voice echo in the deepest chamber of his mind, clear as a bell and cold as the void—Akira's final, delivered message.
???: —the name he marked you as was THE GHOST.