The new normal was delicate, and it started to unravel at the edges right from the beginning. It began not with a loud explosion, but with a soft, steady hum—a discordant note in the world's symphony that was audible only to me.
We found ourselves in Tartarus, working to carve a path through a layer of sluggish, sorrowful Shadows. My control was smooth and effortless.
With a swift flick of my wrist, I brought a halt to a slime-like creature, creating the perfect opportunity for Yukari to unleash a precisely aimed arrow that shattered it into pieces.
"Kaito, I've noticed that your efficiency is on the rise," Mitsuru remarked, her tone steady and observant through the comm. Yet, I could sense the gentle warmth within it, a personal commendation meant solely for me.
"I appreciate your training," I responded, the words flowing effortlessly.
At that moment, the hum grew louder, transforming into a psychic shiver that coursed down my spine. I stood still, my gaze darting to a far-off, undulating wall of the labyrinth.
"Kaito? What is it?" Mitsuru's voice became immediately attentive.
"I... am not sure," I whispered, my awareness expanding. "It is not a shadow. It's like... a thread. A thread on the verge of breaking."
The presence inside me remained calm, yet its focus was sharp, akin to a doctor listening intently for a faint, irregular heartbeat. It detected a weakness within the system, a possible point where things could go wrong.
Upon returning to the dorm, the sensation lingered on. It lingered, a background anxiety that colored everything. As I sat down for dinner, my gaze lingered on Akihiko, an unusual feeling of unease washing over me.
"You're staring, Tanaka," he remarked, keeping his gaze fixed on his meal. "Have you identified a new vulnerability to take advantage of?"
"That's not the case," I replied, grappling to articulate my thoughts. "It is your determination."
"The idea that surrounds you. It is stretched tightly. This feeling is similar to a wire that is about to snap.
At last, he raised his gaze, his grey eyes narrowing with intensity. "What does that mean?"
"I really don't know," I confessed, feeling a wave of frustration wash over me. "It is merely an emotion. It feels as though something is approaching you. This is something you may not be prepared for.
Silence fell over the table. Junpei paused in his enthusiastic consumption of curry. Yukari appeared to be filled with concern.
Akihiko scoffed, though this time it didn't carry the usual weight. "I'm consistently prepared. Please, there's no need to be concerned about my well-being. Focus on maintaining your clarity of mind."
But the worry had been planted.
Eventually, I discovered Mitsuru in the command room. As she examined the data from our expedition, her thoughts drifted to other places.
"You felt it as well," I said, resting against the doorway.
She was straightforward and did not feign confusion. "A disruption. Subtle, yet unmistakable. What are your thoughts on Akihiko...?" She turned to look at me, her expression serious.
"Your skills are advancing past the realm of confrontation. You are starting to understand the concept of fate, Kaito. The possibility of events. It is a perilous gift."
"Is it possible for us to put an end to it?" What could it possibly be?"
"I'm not sure," she murmured, revealing a moment of vulnerability. She approached me, her typical calmness giving way to an intense sense of urgency. With her hands resting gently on my shoulders, her gaze held a deep intensity.
"What I feared has come to pass. This weight of understanding. When you witness a tragedy approaching, and you find yourself powerless to prevent it... how does that affect you?"
I gently placed my hands over hers. "Together, we will confront it." I stare at her eyes. "You and I together, standing as one—that was the promise we made."
A gentle, appreciative smile graced her lips. She leaned in closer, pressing her forehead gently against mine. "A unified front," she echoed, as though gathering strength from the very essence of the phrase.
The following day at school, the sensation intensified. The connection to Akihiko was alive, pulsating with a frantic and desperate energy. I noticed him engaged in conversation with a girl from a different class—a soft-spoken, frail-looking girl who had kind, gentle eyes. Fuuka Yamagishi. The idea surrounding her was one of concealed layers and delicate resilience.
And then I laid my eyes upon him. An upperclassman, tall and lanky, wearing a well-worn cap, exuding a sense of familiarity and a hint of recklessness. Shinjiro Aragaki. The idea that resonated from him was so powerful it felt nearly overwhelming: FINALITY. A clock ticks steadily, each second bringing it closer to zero.
The bond linking him to Akihiko was not merely tight; it was worn, on the verge of breaking with the faintest touch.
I found it impossible to remain quiet. After school, I found myself cornering Akihiko in the gym.
"Sanada. The man wearing the cap. Aragaki. You are familiar with him."
Akihiko paused his workout with the punching bag, his body becoming tense and still. "That doesn't concern you, Tanaka."
"It concerns me when the atmosphere surrounding you is filled with the signs of an unfortunate conclusion!" I responded sharply, my own irritation bubbling to the surface. "I can sense it, Akihiko!"
"It feels as though you are witnessing a train barreling towards a bridge that has already fallen apart! What is happening?"
He suddenly faced me, his eyes filled with intense fire. Do you really believe that having this strange ability means you grasp everything there is to know? You really have no understanding of who I am or who Shinji is! "Please, just stay out of it!"
"It's due to the girl, isn't it?" "Yamagishi?"
That brought him to a complete halt. The fury that once burned in his eyes gradually gave way to a subtle glimmer of fear. "What do you know about her?"
"I do not. No, not really. Yet, I can sense the connections. Your determination to keep her safe. His... his date of expiration."
The words lingered unpleasantly on my tongue. "Something is about to take place. In the near future. And you will attempt to bear the burden of it by yourself. Refrain from doing that."
He looked at me intently, his chest rising and falling with each breath. In that fleeting instant, I witnessed the facade of the unbeatable warrior shatter, exposing the frightened, sorrowful child hidden within.
"I can handle it," he said, though his voice betrayed a hint of uncertainty.
"There's no need for you to," I said, my voice becoming gentler. "This is our purpose, this is my purpose. Please let me help you."
He remained silent. He turned back to the punching bag, continuing his workout with each strike landing harder and more urgently than the one before.
I experienced failure. The tragedy stood before me like a locked door, and I found myself without the key to open it. I could only stand by and observe as the threads of fate grew tighter, inevitably poised to ensnare one of my friends.
The detached, rational aspect of the Entity inside me perceived the impending conclusion as a straightforward, unavoidable equation. Yet, the human side of me, the side that had come to share laughter with Junpei and place trust in Mitsuru, was overwhelmed by an increasing sense of dread.
The beautiful creation of our new life was on the verge of being tainted by a tragedy that I felt utterly helpless to stop. What made it even more difficult was the realization that, on a profound and essential level, I sensed that this was destined to occur.
The idea lingered like a cold whisper within me, revealing the first genuine indication of the vast weight I bore in the universe.