The Pieces Left Behind

The morning after their second death felt like nothingness.

There were no tears left to cry. No screams to let out. Only silence—and the echo of memories I couldn't erase.

They died again.

Because of me.

I lay there, unmoving, staring at the pale ceiling of my childhood room. My throat was dry. My hands numb. I hadn't even changed out of my clothes from yesterday. The only thing that moved was the ticking of the wall clock.

Tick. Tock.

Time hadn't stopped. The world kept spinning.

Even if mine had shattered twice.

I eventually sat up, limbs heavy, heart heavier. The faint scent of miso soup still lingered in the air, but it felt like a cruel mockery now.

I walked downstairs like a ghost.

The dining table was still set.

Their breakfast bowls remained half-full. The tamagoyaki untouched.

Yui's little chopsticks were still resting on her plate.

I stared at them.

Her seat was too quiet.

I reached out, fingers hovering above the edge of her chair... then stopped. As if touching it would make it real again. As if the warmth would still be there.

My chest tightened.

I killed them again.

I couldn't stay here. Not right now.

I grabbed my hoodie, slipped into my sneakers, and walked out the front door into the chilly spring air.

The streets were quiet.

The cherry blossoms had started to fall in earnest now, petals littering the sidewalks like soft pink snow. Each step I took crunched over them—delicate lives crushed underfoot, much like mine.

I walked aimlessly. Past the corner convenience store. Past the small playground where Yui once scraped her knee. Past the rusted sign of our middle school.

And then—I stopped.

There, just ahead, were two boys shoving a smaller kid to the ground.

The smaller boy had glasses and a backpack too big for his frame. The bullies laughed, kicking over his books, shoving him back down whenever he tried to stand.

Normally, I would've looked away.

Not because I was heartless, but because I'd been him once.

The kid no one stood up for.

But something snapped inside me.

Not rage.

Not righteousness.

Something colder.

Like purpose.

I walked over, not bothering to mask the sound of my footsteps.

"Oi."

The two bullies turned, sneers on their faces. "What's your problem, old—"

I didn't let him finish.

My hand grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanking him forward with surprising force.

His friend tried to swing at me, but I dodged. My body remembered how to move—not like a middle schooler, but like someone who'd been through too much to be scared of petty violence.

In seconds, both of them were on the ground, groaning.

I turned to the small boy, who looked at me wide-eyed, lips trembling.

"You okay?" I asked.

He nodded slowly. "Y-yeah…"

I picked up his books and handed them over. "They won't bother you again."

He clutched them to his chest. "T-thanks…"

"What's your name?"

"Fujita. Fujita Riku."

That name... it rang a bell.

Wait—wasn't he the kid who—

No. It couldn't be.

In the original timeline, I vaguely remembered hearing about a kid named Riku who took his own life after being bullied relentlessly. It hadn't made the news—just a sad rumor whispered in the halls.

A fragile life snuffed out early.

But here he was. Alive. Still bruised. Still breakable.

And this time, I was here.

"Hey," I said firmly. "If anyone messes with you again, come find me. I mean it."

He looked up at me with disbelief. And maybe—just maybe—something like hope.

"Okay..."

I watched him walk away, his steps still unsteady but a little less alone.

Maybe I couldn't save the people I loved.

But I could save someone.

And that had to mean something.

---

The day after the accident, no police came.

No news station knocked on my door.

No one confirmed the deaths.

But I knew the moment I checked my phone.

There it was: a missed call from an unknown number. And a news app notification.

> BREAKING: Fatal accident at Lake Kawaguchi confirms identities of victims. Three deceased.

Three.

Not four.

I read the names.

Shirasaki Rika.

Shirasaki Satoshi.

Shirasaki Yui.

Not Amano.

Of course not.

I was never their blood.

But they were my family.

Always.

Even though I already knew… seeing the names crushed something inside me all over again.

---

I sat alone on my bed, hugging my knees, when the doorbell rang.

I didn't want to answer it.

I didn't want to see anyone.

But it rang again. And again.

I dragged myself to the door and opened it.

And froze.

"Ren?"

She stood there, panting slightly, hair damp with sweat, eyes filled with worry.

Ayaka.

Not the college Ayaka—the one who had betrayed me.

This was… young Ayaka.

The one I hadn't even met yet in this timeline.

But her face—her eyes—they were filled with something beyond ordinary concern.

Recognition.

No. Not possible…

"Ren…" she said softly. "You're okay."

I blinked. "What… what are you doing here?"

She hesitated, looking down. "I… I just felt like I had to see you."

Something in her tone made my heart pound.

No. Don't let her in.

Not after what she did.

Not after everything.

For a split second, my mind screamed: Slam the door. Turn her away.

But my heart… remembered too much.

I stepped back, letting her in silently. She followed, still glancing around like she was walking through a dream.

We sat in the living room. The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

She looked at the dining table, her face falling when she saw the untouched breakfast.

"I heard… about the accident," she whispered.

I nodded, throat tight.

"You didn't go with them?"

I shook my head.

She didn't ask anything else.

But her eyes…

Those damn eyes.

Like she knew exactly what I was feeling.

I leaned back, studying her. "You've been acting strange. Like you… already know things."

Ayaka's lips parted. She looked away.

"You remember… don't you?" I said.

Silence.

Then, finally…

"Not everything," she whispered. "Just… fragments."

My chest tightened.

So I'm not the only one.

"You time-leaped too?"

She hesitated, then nodded.

"I think so. But not like you. I didn't wake up knowing everything. I just… started having dreams. Feelings. A sense of déjà vu that wouldn't go away. And then, last night, I remembered… the lake. The crash. You… screaming."

Her voice broke.

And in that moment, I saw it.

The guilt.

The regret.

The deep, raw pain of someone who had lived through hell and come back with scars that no one else could see.

"I was supposed to be your reason to live," she said. "But I betrayed you. And now, you're here… and I'm here… and I don't know what to do."

I clenched my fists.

I wanted to scream at her.

To curse her for what she did in the other timeline.

And yet… she's crying.

And I saw the same torment I carried mirrored in her.

Maybe she didn't ask for this either.

Maybe… just like me, she was trying to find redemption.

"I don't know why we're back," I said, voice low. "But if this is our second chance, we can't waste it."

She nodded, wiping her tears. "Then… let me stay. At least for today."

I hesitated, then moved aside.

She sat next to me on the floor, leaning her shoulder against mine.

For the first time in two days, the silence wasn't crushing.

It was… warm.

---

That night, I sat alone in my room, the window open, the wind rustling through the curtains.

The stars above felt closer somehow. The moonlight gentle.

I reached for my phone, scrolling through contacts.

And paused at one name:

Reiji.

My "best friend."

My betrayer.

Is he here too?

Has he come back with memories like us?

If he had… what would he do?

What would I do?

I didn't press call.

Not yet.

But something told me this wasn't over.

That more pieces were falling into place.

Some broken.

Some dangerous.

Some… still redeemable.

And as the wind whispered through the night, I remembered again:

> "If you're given one more chance, what will you do?"

I didn't have the answer yet.

But tomorrow… I'd start looking for it.

No matter how painful.

No matter how far it took me.

Because this time—

I wouldn't run.

---

[END OF CHAPTER 2 ]

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