Chapter 7 - A Life That Almost Was
The embers from the night of the raid had barely stopped glowing, yet the city seemed oddly still. The calm that followed chaos, fragile and deceptive. The pharmacy had resumed its rhythm on the surface, but inside, everything had changed.
The back room still carried the faint scent of fire and damp coats. Most of the team sat scattered across the worn chairs and crates they had dragged in over the months. This room had become a war room, a sanctuary, and now a confessional.
Akio stood, his hands curled into fists. A weight hung over him, heavier than the lab or the missions. He had told the others about the drug, the syringe, and the truth of his transformation. But there was still one story left—one piece of himself he hadn't yet offered.
"I told you how I became young again," he said, voice quiet but firm, "but there's a part of the story I left out. A piece that always felt too painful, too distant... until now."
He moved to the table, his fingertips brushing the edge as if grounding himself.
"I always wanted to be a pharmacist. Ever since I was a kid. My uncle owned a little pharmacy in Saitama. It wasn't fancy or modern, just a small shop tucked between a tea house and a bakery. I used to go there after school, sit behind the counter with my math books, and watch him work.
There was something about how he treated people—not just the medicine, but the listening, the explaining, the kindness. It was like watching a wizard make pain go away with potions and words. I used to think pharmacists were like alchemists. My uncle made people believe in healing again. And I wanted to be just like him."
He smiled faintly, eyes distant.
"I studied hard. Got into a decent university program for pharmacy. It wasn't the best school, but it was mine. I felt like I was on the right path. But... life doesn't wait for dreams to finish growing."
The smile faded.
"We left my father. My mother was working two jobs already. I took on night shifts. Cafés, gas stations, anything I could find. Sleep was something other people had. I tried to keep up with classes, but I started falling behind all because of the weight of pay as well.
The first exam I failed felt like a fluke. The second one felt like a warning. The third? That was a collapse."
He looked down, voice growing softer.
"I remember coming home one night and hearing my mother crying over the bills. Something in me just... broke. I dropped out. Told myself I'd reapply next year. That I just needed time. But that time never came.
I got a temp job in an office. Said I'd just work for a bit, save up, then try again. But 'just a bit' turned into years. The paycheck was small, but it was steady. And the longer I stayed, the more I started believing that my dream was just a childish fantasy."
The others were silent. Even the storm outside seemed to hush.
"Then I met someone. She was... amazing. Wild hair, wilder ideas. A writer who thought office work was death incarnate. And we got married, somehow. Thus either way we were happy at that."
Akio's voice trembled.
"We all laughed like bells, I always told my daughter bedtime stories about a magical pharmacy run by a sorcerer-pharmacist named Papa. She used to giggle and say she wanted to help me brew dragon cough syrup someday."
He wiped his eyes, voice tightening.
"And then she died."
No one moved.
"It was a bombing. Wrong place. Wrong time. My wife left. Said she couldn't bear to look at me. Said my grief was too heavy. And maybe it was. I spiraled. I lost my job. Started drinking. Living in the cracks between days. Until the stranger found me. Until the syringe."
Akio straightened. His eyes found theirs again.
"When I woke up fourteen again, I thought it was a curse. But then I remembered what I wanted. Who I was. That kid behind the pharmacy counter. That dream that got lost under bills and loss and routine.
This time, I promised myself I wouldn't forget. I would rebuild the dream, no matter what it took and walked forward through an alley for dramatic flare after leaving the building I woke up in. And you all helped me do that. Each of you.
You didn't just help me reopen a pharmacy. You helped me finish something I thought I lost forever."
He looked at them—Misaki, who wept openly. Rumane, who stared at the ground lap. Hikata, unusually quiet. Raka, stone-faced but breathing hard. Akazuchi, jaw clenched. Yamataro, lips tight, fists tighter.
Rumane rose first. She walked forward and pulled Akio into a hug so sudden and fierce it knocked his breath out.
"You idiot," she muttered. "You brave, stubborn, kind idiot."
Raka was next. She didn't say anything. Just touched his shoulder and squeezed.
Hikata offered a soda. "I don't know how to comfort people, so uh... fizzy drink?"
Yamataro stepped forward. "We knew you were carrying something. We just didn't know it weighed this much. But now we do. And we're not going anywhere."
Misaki wiped her tears and took his hand. "You gave us all a second chance, Akio. It's time we gave one back to you."
Akazuchi crossed his arms. "You still have to tell the others. All of them. And when you do, we're going to stand right beside you. No more hiding."
Akio nodded, overwhelmed. "Yeah... I know. I will. Thank you. All of you."
His voice glad. The tears came harder this time, unstoppable. He cried like a person who had carried grief alone in a storm and finally found shelter. Not weak—never weak. Just himself.
Outside, the wind carried leaves across the street. Somewhere in the dark, a cat meowed. Inside, the lights buzzed. Silent warmth wrapped around them.
This was the life that almost was. And now, at last, it was real.
[Next: Chapter 8 (Volume 3 Finale) — Echoes on the Wind!]