Second Loop, Chapter 10 : 犠牲の重み (The Weight of Sacrifice)

The campfire flickered weakly, its embers struggling against the chill of the encroaching night. I sat on a fallen log near the flames, hugging my knees to my chest, staring blankly into the dying fire. The glow painted my metallic arm in hues of bronze and crimson—a reminder of every battle I had fought, every sacrifice that had led us here.

And yet, none of it compared to the battle raging in my heart now.

Across from me, Daichi sat in silence, his dark eyes fixed on the horizon. The wind stirred his hair, but his face betrayed no emotion, as if he had already accepted the weight of everything we had uncovered. The quiet between us stretched on, thick and suffocating. It pressed against my chest until I couldn't take it anymore.

"I can't believe this," I muttered, my voice cracking as I finally broke the silence. My fingers curled around the rough edge of the log, gripping it so tightly that the wood splintered beneath my metal hand. "After everything we've been through, this is how it ends?"

Daichi turned his head slightly, his gaze flickering to me. His expression remained unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something that made my stomach twist.

"It's not the end, Izumi," he said softly. "It's... the beginning. For everyone else."

For everyone else.

I let out a hollow, bitter laugh, pushing myself to my feet. The firelight danced against the metal plating of my arm as I paced in tight circles. "What about us, Daichi? What about you? Doesn't your life matter, too?" My voice rose, trembled, fractured beneath the weight of my emotions. "You're not just—just some solution to their problem! You're a person. You're Daichi!"

His eyes softened, but he didn't move. He simply sat there, calm, unwavering, while my entire world threatened to shatter around me.

"Izumi," he murmured, his voice steady, as if he had already made peace with this. "You know this is the only way. You've always known."

"No!" The word tore from my throat like a plea, raw and desperate. I spun to face him, my breath shaking as my hands clenched into trembling fists. "There has to be another way—we just haven't found it yet! We still have time!"

Daichi rose slowly, his movements quiet, deliberate. The firelight cast long shadows across his face, making him look almost ethereal. But his expression held no anger, no frustration—only quiet understanding.

"We've searched for answers for weeks," he said, his voice laced with quiet resignation. "And this is the answer we found. You've seen it too, haven't you? In the documents. In everything we uncovered."

I shook my head, stumbling back a step. "No," I whispered. "I won't let it happen. I won't let you do this." My voice broke, and I clutched at my chest as if trying to hold myself together. "Not again."

Daichi took a step forward, then another, until he was standing right in front of me. His hands rested gently on my shoulders, grounding me, even as I felt like I was falling apart.

"Izumi," he said softly. There was a sadness in his voice—one I had never heard before. "I'm not afraid to do this. If it means giving humanity a second chance, then it's worth it. I'm worth it."

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out his words, trying to shut out the truth. But his hands remained firm, steady, like an anchor holding me in place.

"But I need you to be strong," he continued. "I need you to believe in this. Believe in me."

My lips trembled, but no words came.

Instead, a sob escaped my throat, and I crumpled forward, pressing my face against his chest. His arms hesitated—just for a moment—before wrapping around me, pulling me close. I clung to him desperately, my fingers curling into the fabric of his coat as if letting go would mean losing him forever.

"You don't understand," I whispered against him, my voice breaking apart. "You're not just another person to me, Daichi. You're... you're everything. You're all I have left."

His grip tightened, his fingers pressing gently into my back. For the first time, I thought I felt him shudder—just barely.

"And you're everything to me, Izumi," he murmured. "That's why I have to do this. Not just for them, but for you. So you can live in a world that's whole again."

I pulled back, my glowing eyes searching his face, searching for something—anything—that would tell me he might change his mind. But all I saw was quiet resolve.

"How can you say that so easily?" I asked, my voice shaking. "How can you just... accept this?"

"It's not easy," he admitted. "But it's what I was made for. It's what I am. And even if I can't remember my past, I know this much: I want to make a difference. I want my life to mean something."

I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms as fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. "But it already means something," I whispered. "It means something to me."

Daichi's expression wavered—just for a fraction of a second. His fingers brushed a tear from my cheek, his touch impossibly gentle.

"Thank you," he said softly. "For believing in me. For staying with me, even when I couldn't remember why."

"Daichi..." My voice broke again, and I looked away, unable to meet his gaze any longer.

The fire crackled between us, its flames flickering lower, as if sensing that this night—this moment—was slipping away. The wind rustled through the trees, whispering secrets neither of us wanted to hear.

"Izumi," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Promise me something."

I swallowed hard before looking up at him. "What?"

"When the time comes," he said, his eyes filled with quiet pain, "don't try to stop me. Let me do this."

A sharp pain lanced through my chest, as if his words had pierced straight through me. I shook my head. "I can't," I whispered. "I can't make that promise."

"You can," he insisted, his hands gently gripping mine. "Because I believe in you. And I need you to believe in me."

The silence stretched between us, deep and suffocating.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I closed my eyes. My tears fell freely, slipping down my cheeks as I forced the words past my lips.

"I promise."

The moment I said it, it felt like something inside me shattered.

The fire flickered, its embers glowing faintly before fading into the night. Around us, the darkness stretched on, vast and unending.

And as we stood there, our hands clasped tightly, I realized something.

Some promises hurt more than any wound ever could.