Hello everyone.
This is Arc Zero of "Endless Decades."
Alright… let's just step inside, shall we?
Bye now—
Haha, just kidding.
Alright then, let's begin.
Time.
Yes, that word — the one we hear every single day, the one we keep saying without thinking.
But have you noticed? It's been said so many times, it's almost lost its meaning.
Still... it's impossible not to talk about it.
Time isn't infinite — not for us.
We live in length, width, and height... but time — it never lets us go backward.
You can return to a place,
but not to a moment.
We only have one direction: forward.
That's why, in this brief span of existence, we have to do something.
Because if we make a mistake — we can't undo it.
Some say, "Time is the fairest judge."
Others say, "Time is cruel."
Both are right — because it doesn't care who you are.
Good or bad, it keeps moving.
And still... we regret.
"If only I hadn't done that…"
"If only I had one more chance…"
Those words cut deep, don't they?
Yeah... they hurt me too.
Sometimes, I fall asleep wishing for that 'one more time.'
Heyyy, don't rush off yet!
I'm not finished!
Alright, alright.
Let's talk about the fourth dimension for a second.
Yes, that one — where space merges with time.
Imagine this: you can be anywhere, at any time.
Sounds amazing, right?
But... it's impossible.
Because humans are still chained to time itself.
And even for a single second of going back,
they'd give up everything.
So tell me — if you were given ten more years,
to return, to change, or to live again…
what would you do?
…
What's with the silence?
Alright, fine — don't tell me.
Oh, sorry... I stopped the story again with my philosophical rambling.
Okay, okay — this time, for real... goodbye.
Just kidding, hahaha!
But now, seriously — goodbye.
The Watch That Shouldn't Tick
London, September 7th, 1940.
Dark clouds hung low. The fog clung to the ground, swallowing the streets whole.
Every gust of wind lifted the dust — and within that dust, fear moved silently.
Explosions thundered in the distance, each one echoing through the heart like a pulse.
"WOOOO—OOO—WOOOO…"
The air raid sirens tore through the city.
The streets were flooded with running souls — some clutching babies, others their bags, all searching for shelter.
And among them walked two silent figures, steady and cold.
Aki Mori, twenty-two. Japanese.
Beside her — Arthur Reed, an English mechanic, sleeves rolled up and shirt stained with oil and smoke.
Neither spoke, but both carried purpose in every step.
"Aki," Arthur murmured, voice low. "If we take that road, we'll run into the army."
"Then we take another one," Aki replied. Her tone was firm — no hesitation, no fear.
The flashes between explosions lit their way,
each burst like a signal from the heavens guiding them forward.
The buildings along the street were half-collapsed, windows shattered,
and the air was thick — with the scent of smoke and iron.
Arthur stopped.
"I've never smelled this before," he muttered.
Aki kept walking. Then quietly —
"It's the smell of time decaying."
Arthur looked at her, puzzled.
Aki removed her mask; her eyes gleamed even in the dark.
"Time doesn't rot, Aki," he said.
"Then why does everything around us feel like it is?" she replied.
Silence.
Only a distant "BOOM!" broke it — a reminder that death was never far.
They slipped through a hole in the wall.
Inside — darkness. Aki switched on her light. Dust cut through the beam like smoke.
Beneath the stairs, a rusted iron door waited.
Arthur raised his light. "This place… it's the old Whitestone Mechanics Co. factory. Closed in 1897."
"Your father worked here, didn't he?"
"Yes," Arthur said, his eyes cold. "When I was a boy, this place was alive."
"Then maybe," Aki whispered, "it still remembers you."
The door creaked open — "Grrrryyyyy…"
Inside — dust, rust, and broken machines.
Every shape, every shard, whispered echoes of the past.
Aki felt her heart pound.
This place… it felt familiar, though she had never been here before.
"Tick… tack… tick… tack…"
"Do you hear that?" Arthur asked.
"Yes," Aki said slowly. "But… that clock shouldn't be working."
The sound came from behind another door.
Arthur pushed it open — dust burst into the air.
Inside — a black chest.
"Old model of lock," Aki said. "Nineteenth-century mechanism."
"Can you open it?"
"Of course," she smiled faintly. "I didn't learn to open doors of time from you."
She touched the lock.
Click.
The lid lifted.
Inside — a pocket watch.
The moment light touched it, a faint glow spread from within.
The clock wasn't moving — yet it breathed.
"Tick… tack…"
Arthur stepped back.
"That's impossible… there's no mechanism!"
Aki's tone turned cold.
"Then it runs… without one."
She picked it up. The chill ran through her veins,
but she didn't let go.
"Arthur, this thing doesn't measure time."
"Then what does it do?"
"I don't know," she whispered. "But it's unsettling my heart.
"Tick… tack… tick… tack…"
She could feel her heartbeat matching the sound.
"It's driving me mad," she muttered, placing it back into the box.
The lid closed.
"Tick."
Then silence.
"We'll take it to the lab," Aki said quietly.
"This isn't just metal… it's breathing."
Arthur nodded slowly.
"Maybe," he sighed, "the boss knows something. He used to talk about some secret Whitestone project."
Aki turned to him. Her eyes glimmered with suspicion.
"What do you mean — he knows? What does that mean, Arthur?"
"Maybe this thing… could change the war."
"Or end it," Aki replied.
Arthur said nothing.
Aki's voice hardened.
"What do you mean by that? What is this thing? What are you hiding from me, Arthur?"
Then —
"Tick…"
Aki clutched her head. Her pupils shrank.
"Aki, are you okay?" Arthur stepped closer.
"Tick… tack… tick… tack…"
Aki whispered, trembling,
"No... no... no..."
Even though the clock was sealed, its rhythm filled the air —
like a second heartbeat that wasn't their own.
The air grew heavy. Silence pressed down.
Then — footsteps.
"Tok… tok… tok…"
Hard soles striking stone.
Arthur killed the light and pressed to the wall.
Aki held her breath.
The door creaked open.
A soldier entered. Blood on his cheek. Sharp eyes.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded, voice shaking but firm.
"Are you enemy spies?"
Arthur stepped forward, hands raised.
"No! No, we got lost! I'm British!"
He tore off his mask. "See? I'm one of you!"
The soldier hesitated, then turned his aim toward Aki.
"Then who's she? Why is she masked?"
Arthur stepped between them.
"Wait! She's with us!"
The soldier advanced.
"I said — remove the mask!"
Silence.
Aki inhaled slowly.
Arthur whispered, "Trust me."
The soldier barked, "In wartime, strangers in masks don't get trust."
"Tok…"
"Tak…"
Then — a faint metallic sound.
From Aki's wrist — a small blade slipped free.
Arthur shouted, "No!"
Too late.
The knife flew — hit the soldier's eye —
but his finger had already pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The bullet struck Arthur.
He fell backward.
The soldier screamed, "My eye!"
Blood hit the metal floor — heavy, hot, and dark.
Aki ran to Arthur, hands trembling, covered in blood.
Her face — not fear, but pain.
"Why?" she gasped. "Why did you bring me here, Arthur?"
Arthur's breathing was broken.
"I... I don't know the clock... I don't..."
"Liar!" she shouted. "What is your boss planning?!"
Arthur's eyes fluttered.
"He said... time... belongs to no one…"
"BOOM!"
The ground trembled.
The ceiling cracked.
Dust. Light. Collapse.
Everything — fell into darkness.
Only the ticking remained.
"Tick… tack…"
Everything stopped.
Everything… fell silent.
The air froze; the dust hung in place, suspended midair.
Aki looked around — the bombs were frozen mid-explosion, fire caught motionless in the sky.
No sound. No wind.
As if the world had simply… forgotten how to breathe.
She exhaled slowly.
But then—
A breath.
Behind her.
Soft… yet familiar.
Aki turned — slowly.
And there she was.
Herself.
The same hair. The same face.
Except… her eyes.
They were hollow. Lifeless.
Cold. Deep. Silent.
The other one smiled.
"Who... are you?" Aki's voice trembled.
"Who, me?" the other said, her tone like an echo. "Shouldn't I be asking... who you are?"
Aki took a step back.
"I'm asking you! Why do you look like me?"
"Look like you?" she smirked. "Funny... I thought you were the copy."
Aki's breath quickened.
"Why are you following me?"
The double laughed — softly at first.
"Ha... ha... ha..."
Then she straightened, eyes glinting.
"Following you? No, Aki. You're the one who called me."
Aki shook her head.
"I didn't call you!"
"Oh? You didn't?" she said, mocking like a child.
Then her voice dropped — colder, heavier.
"Then why did you press the watch?"
Aki froze.
Her heart turned to ice.
"I... I just..." she whispered.
"You just what?"
"I wanted to fix my mistakes..."
"Ha," she laughed. "They all say that."
"'I wanted to fix it.'"
"'I wanted another chance.'"
"'It wasn't fair...'"
"Blah... blah... blah..."
Her grin sharpened.
"So tell me, Aki... is that what you were going to say?"
She took a slow step forward.
"But deep down... you don't even know what you really want."
Aki clenched her jaw.
She stepped closer.
"I know what I'm doing. I know what I want!" she snapped.
The double laughed again — a jagged, metallic sound.
"Do you? Then tell me... why did you press it? Do you even know what that watch is?"
Aki stopped.
Her eyes fell to the watch in her hand.
"I... I don't know why I pressed it," she whispered. "Why..."
The other tilted her head, listening mockingly.
"I'm waiting."
Suddenly Aki shouted:
"I don't know what this watch does! I don't even know what it is! But I want everything!"
She raised her head, eyes burning.
"I don't know who you are... but stay out of my way!"
She started forward.
"Stop!" the double hissed.
But Aki didn't.
"I said stop!"
Aki pulled out her knife.
"Don't come closer!"
The double laughed.
"A knife? Against time? How amusing."
Aki lunged —
but the blade froze midair, hanging motionless,
as if the air itself refused to move.
Aki staggered back.
"What did you do!?"
The other knelt slightly, smiling.
"I didn't do anything."
Aki fell to her knees.
Her hands sank into the dust.
The air pressed down like lead.
Her breathing grew ragged.
The other walked closer.
Her face lit with a cruel joy,
eyes gleaming like glass.
She reached out — her hand clamped around Aki's throat.
Cold. So cold.
Aki gasped.
"What... do you... want..."
The shadow whispered,
"I want... what you want."
Aki's vision blurred.
"I... want... everything..."
The double smiled.
"I know."
Then she threw Aki to the ground.
Dust exploded around them.
"Tick…"
"Tack…"
Her laughter filled the still world.
"Ha... ha... ha... ha... ha... ha!"
Louder.
And louder.
And louder—
Then silence.
She leaned close, voice like a whisper of wind:
"First... hold on to what's in your hands."
She tossed the watch at Aki's feet.
The hands on its face twitched — once.
Aki looked up.
But the other... was gone.
As if she had never existed.
Only silence remained.
And the sound of the watch.
"Tick… tack…"
"Tick… tack…"
Aki whispered, trembling,
"What... what was that?"
She lifted the watch.
And the ticking continued.
Aki held the watch in her hand.
A whisper escaped her lips.
"I won't show this to the boss.
They're hiding something.
I can't stay in London any longer — this city is burning itself alive.
And their eyes toward the Japanese… grow colder every day."
She took a deep breath.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
"I'm going home... to my family," she said.
---
August, 1945.
The sky was silent.
The sea — dark.
Aki Mori.
Once a chemist.
Once a refugee.
Now... something less than human.
She had come a long way.
From the bombings of London, to stowing away on a military ship.
The nights were endless — but the sea wind whispered her name,
as if guiding her home.
The ship carried her to the shores of Europe.
There, she vanished among the lost —
hungry, exhausted,
but with one single thought burning in her eyes:
> Japan.
Years carved themselves into her soul.
Iron tracks.
Frozen nights.
And the ceaseless heartbeat of the watch:
"Tick... tack... tick... tack..."
---
11t august , 1945.
Nagasaki.
At last — home.
Aki pressed her hand to her heart.
She saw it — her childhood.
Her mother's hands.
Her siblings' laughter.
The lights in the summer sky.
And then —
The sky burned.
"BOOOOOOOOOOOM!"
The earth shook.
A light brighter than the sun speared through the clouds.
Then — silence.
Aki fell to her knees.
The watch trembled in her palms.
Heat brushed her shoulders —
but it wasn't warmth.
It was fire.
"No... no... this can't be..."
"They were here... they were right here..."
She ran.
She didn't think.
She just ran.
The city was gone.
Houses were ash.
People — shadows.
The air reeked of iron and burned flesh.
Aki stumbled and fell.
She pressed her hands into the soot,
and for every face she saw, every body she touched, she whispered—
"Forgive me... I couldn't be with you... forgive me..."
She covered her face.
Tears dripped into the ash and turned to steam.
The ground was still hot.
The wind still burned.
Silence.
Only the scent of smoke remained.
"You told me to 'hold on to what's in my hands'..."
"Is this... what you meant?"
"Now everything's gone."
The watch was silent.
Only the sound — steady, like a heart refusing to die:
"Tick… tack… tick… tack…
Then — a clink.
Aki looked up.
A sound from the old well.
She ran toward it.
She peered inside —
Two children.
Their eyes glimmered faintly in the dark.
Her brother. Her sister.
Aki froze — breathless.
Then, trembling, she climbed down,
pulled them close, held them tight.
Their faces were covered in dust —
but they were alive.
She laughed.
But her laughter was trembling —
a sound caught between pain and joy.
She lifted the watch toward the sky.
"You're... not just a toy, are you?"
"I won't use you... but I won't abandon you either."
"I understand now — I don't have the strength... but I have patience."
The children stared up at her.
"Who are you?" the little girl asked.
"Where's Mama?"
Aki's lips trembled.
Tears fell silently.
"I'm... your sister," she said.
She pulled them into her arms.
And she cried — quietly, this time.
Not in despair.
But in surrender.
"And now... we've met — just as time wanted."
The watch clicked.
Its hands began to move again.
"Tick…"
"Tack…"
"Tick…"
The sky brightened.
Light spilled across the ruins,
washing away the ash.
The wind stirred.
Time began to flow once more.
But this time —
in another place.
Another age.
With another soul.
And another story to tell.