Humanity.
Wicked as it is kind.
People walk beside their own kind, yet still divide themselves into worthless hierarchies just to feel important. They create status, power, titles—illusions meant to justify their cruelty.
Humanity.
What a pathetic lie.
Personally…
I would rather face judgment in hell than live within the false comfort of mankind.
For hell never pretends to be kind.
The world went silent.
Not quiet.
Silent.
Even the wind seemed afraid to move.
Touka stood frozen in the ruined street, staring at the figure before him.
It looked exactly like him.
And yet…
It felt nothing like him.
The thing standing there carried itself like a perfected warrior. Calm. Unshaken. Absolute.
Touka's throat tightened.
"Tch…"
His jaw clenched hard enough to crack.
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!"
His voice exploded through the empty city.
The figure said nothing.
Then suddenly—
Touka's vision blurred.
A fist slammed into his face.
BOOM.
His body flew through the air and crashed violently into a broken building. Concrete shattered around him as he rolled through dust and debris.
Before he could even breathe—
Another impact.
The copy appeared above him and drove his fist straight into Touka's face, smashing him downward through multiple floors.
The building collapsed with him inside it.
For a moment…
Silence returned.
The copy stood atop a nearby rooftop, staring down emotionlessly at the rubble below.
Then Touka burst out from the debris, coughing violently as blood ran from his mouth.
He ran.
Instinctively.
Desperately.
It was amusing.
How quickly the predator becomes prey when faced with something higher on the food chain.
An apex predator.
Touka's lungs burned as he sprinted through the destroyed streets.
"What the hell is going on…?"
His thoughts trembled.
"What IS that thing…?"
Then his eyes widened.
He finally noticed where he was.
"…Shibuya?"
The famous crossing stood ahead of him.
Or rather—
What remained of it.
Shadowy figures stood motionless across the empty streets.
But one figure immediately caught his attention.
Green hair.
Touka slowed unconsciously.
"…Green…"
The word escaped his lips before he realized it.
The world around him suddenly felt slower.
Distorted.
Then—
"GET DOWN!"
Touka's eyes widened.
A single slash cut across the city.
The world split apart.
Buildings collapsed instantly as the skyline crumbled into ruin, sliced so cleanly it almost looked unreal.
Touka hit the ground hard, staring in horror as half the city fell around him.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
Slow.
Calm.
The copy approached through the dust, dragging a blade across the ground.
Touka stared at the sword in disbelief.
"Where the hell did he even get that…?"
His teeth ground together violently.
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!"
The copy finally stopped walking.
"…Seven minutes."
Touka blinked.
"…What?"
The figure tilted its head slightly.
"Seven minutes."
A smile slowly twisted across its face.
"That's all the time I have to play with you."
It raised the blade.
"So don't die too early."
The moment the swords met—
The city screamed.
CLANG.
Their movements became impossible to follow.
Steel collided endlessly as sparks exploded into the darkness.
They moved like reflections of one another.
Every strike precise.
Every counter immediate.
Every slash sharper than the last.
It was as if they had fought each other for years.
Then—
CRACK.
Touka's blade shattered.
His eyes widened.
Too slow.
The copy's sword carved through him instantly.
Blood scattered across the ruins.
Touka stumbled—
Another strike broke his arm.
Another crushed his ribs.
Another shattered his nose.
The copy wasn't fighting.
It was playing.
Smiling.
Laughing quietly while tearing him apart piece by piece.
Touka's body was thrown violently through rubble and broken concrete like discarded trash.
By the end—
He could barely breathe.
His eyes had gone hollow.
His entire body trembled beneath the weight of agony.
And then—
The copy grabbed him by the throat.
"…Pathetic."
With one final motion—
It hurled Touka into darkness.
Red.
An endless world of red.
Touka's body crashed across a cold floor before finally stopping.
Lifeless.
Broken.
He forced his eyes open slightly.
Ahead of him stood a theater.
Its massive doors slowly creaked open by themselves.
As if welcoming him.
Touka trembled as he pushed himself forward.
Behind him—
The copy was coming.
Fast.
Touka stared at the theater one final time…
…and stepped inside.
The doors slammed shut behind him.
Silence.
Rows upon rows of people sat inside the theater, dressed elegantly in black.
None of them moved.
None of them spoke.
Touka limped slowly down the stairs.
Then the audience turned toward him.
His breathing stopped.
Their faces…
They were crying blood.
Every single one of them.
Touka staggered backward slightly before looking toward the stage.
A figure danced beneath the light.
He couldn't see her face clearly.
A pure white glow surrounded her body so brightly it almost hurt to look at.
No…
Not white.
Pure.
Touka stared silently as she continued to dance gracefully across the stage.
And somehow—
Even through the light—
He could see her smile.
It reminded him of warmth.
Of peace.
Of her.
Then the dancer finally spoke.
"I once knew a man."
Her voice was soft.
"He wasn't a man of many words… but he was wise. Strong. Brave."
She spun gently beneath the light.
"And he was happy."
Touka's eyes trembled.
"I once asked him what his favorite animal was."
The dancer smiled softly.
"He said the sparrow."
A small laugh escaped her lips.
"I asked him why such a tiny bird."
She looked upward.
"And he told me…"
Her voice became gentler.
'Even if the sparrow is small… it keeps moving forward.
Even if it may never reach the skies of greater birds… it adapts.
It survives.
It never wastes time complaining about the storm.
It simply keeps flying.'
The theater fell silent.
Then she whispered—
"Adapt or die."
Touka's body shook.
"And so…"
The dancer looked directly at him.
"I named this dance after his favorite bird."
A pause.
Then—
"Isn't that right… Dad?"
Touka's eyes widened violently.
"Mi… Millim…?"
Tears finally escaped his eyes.
The audience slowly rose from their seats.
CLAP.
CLAP.
CLAP.
Applause echoed endlessly through the theater.
Touka stumbled toward the stage desperately.
Toward the light.
Toward her.
Then—
BOOM.
The doors behind him exploded apart.
The copy entered the theater.
"GRAB HIM."
Instantly the audience rushed toward Touka like starving corpses.
Hands seized his arms.
His legs.
His throat.
Touka screamed as they dragged him down.
Still—
He reached toward the stage.
Toward Millim.
Toward hope.
The copy leapt forward with its blade raised high.
Touka finally collapsed at the dancer's feet.
The damned swarmed over him completely.
And for the first time…
Touka stopped resisting.
He simply cried.
Then—
Light engulfed the entire theater.
Warm.
Blinding.
Peaceful.
The dancer slowly began to disappear.
But before she vanished completely—
She leaned down gently…
…and kissed Touka on the forehead.
"It's time to wake up, Dad."
Everything shattered into white.
A tree swayed softly in the wind.
Touka opened his eyes beneath it.
A single tear rolled silently down his face.