SAI SHINU
A man appeared at the doorway, but his face was a blur—like smoke hiding his features. My chest tightened.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, in a calm tone, he said, "Oh… I'm sorry."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a pen. In the blink of an eye, the faceless man shifted—his features forming, his presence solidifying.
Yuri's father.
Relief hit me like a wave. "What the hell is happening?" I asked, stepping toward him.
He didn't answer. Instead, he placed both hands firmly on my shoulders, his eyes steady.
"Sai… I trust you like my own son. But right now, I have to take care of some people. You go first. I'll join you soon."
His voice carried weight—half comfort, half command.
I grabbed his wrists, moved his hands away, and stared at him. "…Fine. But be careful."
Without another word, I turned and sprinted into the gate.
The moment I entered, it was like falling into an endless void. My body felt suspended—floating, yet unmoving. Darkness stretched infinitely in every direction.
And then… memories of that strange dimension began flooding my mind.
Time crawled. Nothing happened. My nerves burned from the silence until faint voices echoed around me.
At first, distant. Then closer. Closer.
I spun, searching the void—but no one was there.
The voices weren't speaking my language. They were distorted, haunting, like whispers from another reality brushing against my ears.
I clenched my fists, shut my eyes, and tried to block them out. But the whispers slithered right beside me, breathing at my ear.
Enough.
I snapped my eyes open—
—and above me was a sky. Clear. Endless.
"You're okay… thank God."
A voice. Familiar.
I turned. Yuri stood there, tears threatening to spill. She ran into my arms, hugging me so tightly I could feel her trembling.
"Don't you ever do something like that again," she whispered, her voice shaking.
Her fear hit me harder than any battle wound. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her steady.
Jiro walked up, arms crossed, face filled with disbelief. "Seriously, what the hell were you thinking, man?"
I forced a weak smile. "I… thought I forgot the cat. That's why I stayed behind until the last second."
Jiro raised an eyebrow, then sighed. "Fine. As long as you're good, we're good." He smiled faintly.
I smiled back, though my chest tightened. Yuri still clung to me, and I pressed my hand against her back, trying to calm her shaking.
But inside, I knew the truth.
I had lied.
It wasn't time to reveal what I had seen—who I had seen. Not to Yuri. Not yet. Her father must have reasons for keeping this a secret.
And for now… it would remain one.
YOSUKE ■■■■■
"Sir, where are we going now?" I asked Taro, my voice echoing in the hollow of the abandoned building.
He raised a hand. "Stop right there."
The air was heavy with dust. Taro's eyes scanned the crumbling walls, the distant rumble outside. His expression was grim.
"From what I've seen, Earth won't last more than an hour. Maybe less. You need to gather everything precious to you… then we return."
My blood ran cold. "Wait… do you mean—"
"Yes." His voice cut through me. "It's our only option."
I swallowed hard. I wasn't sure if it was the best choice—but it was the only choice we had.
"Sir… I'm ready. But… how are we supposed to get back?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he began walking, his steps echoing against the broken floor. I followed.
"You remember that kid in the hospital?" he asked suddenly, his tone louder, almost proud.
"If you mean Sai… yes," I shouted back.
A faint smile tugged at Taro's lips. I understood instantly. He meant him.
"What about him?" I pressed.
No reply. We reached his daughter's house. The front door was locked. I lifted my leg and kicked—wood splintered, the door crashing open.
Inside… a gate pulsed.
"You see this?" Taro said, pointing at it.
My eyes widened. "How? Wait—don't tell me…"
"Yes." His eyes gleamed. "That kid managed the impossible."
The realization shook me. "Sir… that means he has powers. Something extraordinary."
"You're right. When he first woke in the hospital, his memory was still in 2024. But the last time we spoke… it was as if all his memories had returned." He almost sounded excited. "Impossible… yet real."
He glanced at the gate, determination hardening in his eyes.
"Right now, he and my daughter are on the other side. We don't have time. We go now."
Before I could respond, we both leapt into the gate.
The void swallowed us. Dark. Vast. Endless.
The journey wasn't pleasant—pressure squeezing, whispers crawling—but we endured.
When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I saw was him.
Sai Shinu.
What a man you are.