Despair Syndrome (2)

Chapter 14 Part 2

No pain—No Gain 「6」

<Despair Syndrome>(2)

✧Tears in the rain✧

「In the end, it's all just a fleeting daydream」

The dawn broke, but it was far from ordinary. I blinked through the haze in my eyes, staring upward. The sun was not its usual radiant orb—it was a massive blue giant, its light cold and eerie, casting a pale, otherworldly glow across the landscape. In the distance, as if mocking the enormity of the sun, a black hole hovered in the sky, silent yet menacing, its edges twisting and devouring light itself.

I stared at the strange sky without flinching. No awe. No fear. Nothing.

Maybe this was just another fragment of my unraveling mind. Maybe it wasn’t real. Did it even matter? The stars could shatter into pieces and fall like rain, and I wouldn’t feel a thing.

I sat motionless as the light bathed the forest around me, illuminating every blade of grass, every droplet of dew clinging to the leaves. Somewhere in the distance, birds were chirping—or maybe they weren’t.

That’s when I saw them.

First, it was my parents. Their faces were warm, smiling as they always had in the rare moments of my childhood when things felt whole. My chest tightened, a pang of something—hope? Longing?—welling up before I even knew it.

But then their faces twisted. Their eyes hardened, mouths curling into sneers. My father’s voice cut through me like a blade.

“You should’ve never existed in the first place.”

My mother’s laugh followed, brittle and sharp. “Such a waste of life. You’ve always been a burden.”

I flinched, clutching my chest, but their figures faded like smoke in the wind. My breath came shallow and ragged as another figure emerged.

Yuri.

She smiled at me, that same cheerful grin she always had, her pink hair glowing in the cold blue light. “Hoshino,” she said softly, her voice like a melody. “We’ve been looking for you.”

I reached out, a glimmer of something—relief, maybe—rising within me. But as soon as I touched her, her warmth vanished. She stepped back, her smile turning cold, distant.

“You really thought we cared?” Her voice was venom now, laced with disdain. “Nobody wants you. Nobody ever did.”

I recoiled as more faces appeared, one after the other. Friends, teachers, strangers—all of them familiar, all of them wrong. Their words blurred together, a cacophony of disdain and rejection that pounded in my ears like a war drum.

“Useless.”

“Burden.”

“Why do you keep trying?”

“Why are you even alive?”

My fingers dug into the dirt beneath me, nails scraping against the cold earth as I tried to ground myself. My head throbbed, my vision swam, but I refused to look away.

“You’re not real,” I muttered, my voice hoarse. “You’re not real!”

Their voices faded, leaving behind only silence.

I dragged myself to my feet, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me like an anchor. My body ached in ways I couldn’t describe, every movement a herculean effort. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, but it didn’t matter. Food wouldn’t fix this. Nothing would.

My gaze drifted to the lake, and I saw my reflection.

White-silver hair, even paler than it had been before. Lifeless. Dull. The right eye, that cursed golden clock, still ticking away, its intricate gears mocking me with their precision. The left—a star-shaped pupil framed by a crescent iris. Unique, maybe even beautiful, but hollow.

There was no life left in those eyes.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “That seems about right.”

Without another word, I picked up the sword I had stolen from the swordsman. The blade felt heavier than I remembered, though it might have been my own body giving out. The faint glint of its edge caught my attention for a moment, but I pushed the thought away.

I turned toward the forest, my legs moving on instinct.

The trees stretched high above me, their branches twisting together like a canopy of shadows. The air was thick with the scent of earth and decay, every step accompanied by the crunch of dead leaves beneath my boots.

Something rustled in the undergrowth to my right—a small creature, maybe a rabbit or a fox. It didn’t matter.

The moment it emerged, I swung the sword.

The blade cleaved through the creature before it even had time to react, its body falling limp to the ground in a pool of crimson.

I stared at it for a moment, the blood seeping into the soil. Then I kept walking.

A bird fluttered down from a low branch, its chirps breaking the silence. My sword was faster. Its body hit the ground with a dull thud, its wings twitching once before going still.

I didn’t stop.

Every living thing I encountered met the same fate.

A deer crossed my path, its graceful form silhouetted against the pale blue light filtering through the trees. I didn’t hesitate. My blade found its mark, and the animal collapsed, its breath rattling as it bled out.

There was no malice in my actions. No rage, no joy. Just... emptiness.

This forest was alive, and I couldn’t stand it.

The sword grew heavier with each swing, my arms trembling as I forced them to move. My breath came in shallow gasps, the world spinning around me, but I kept going.

I had to keep going.

The blue sun hung high above, its cold light casting long shadows through the trees. The black hole in the distance loomed like a void in the fabric of reality, its presence both distant and oppressive.

I felt like it was watching me.

My legs buckled, and I fell to my knees, the sword slipping from my grasp and landing in the dirt beside me. My chest heaved as I struggled to catch my breath, my vision blurring.

Somewhere in the distance, I heard the faint sound of water—a stream, maybe, or a river. But I didn’t move.

For the first time since I’d started walking, I let myself sit still.

The forest was silent now, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. Every living thing I’d encountered was dead, their bodies littering the ground behind me like a grotesque trail.

I stared at the dirt beneath me, my mind blank.

“Too tired,” I whispered, the words barely audible.

Too tired to think. Too tired to feel. Too tired to care.

I closed my eyes, the weight of exhaustion dragging me down like an anchor. The sword lay forgotten at my side, its edge stained with blood.

The world could end, and I wouldn’t even notice.

Maybe it already had.

“Hah”

With a sigh, I pulled my hood up, shielding myself from the eerie blue light of the giant sun above. My legs moved on their own, dragging me forward with a monotonous rhythm. The forest stretched endlessly in every direction, but I didn’t care where I was going. It wasn’t like I had anywhere to be.

My thoughts wandered as I trudged through the undergrowth, stepping over fallen branches and roots that tried to trip me. A memory surfaced, vivid yet painfully distant.

It was the old days—those lazy afternoons when I’d sit in my room, completely absorbed in my favorite game, Undertale. God, how many hours had I sunk into that pixelated world? The music, the story, the characters... It was all so simple, so comforting.

I used to dream about being in a world like that. A world where every choice mattered, where even the smallest acts of kindness could change everything.

“How ironic,” I muttered under my breath.

Now, every choice I made was meaningless. Every step forward only led to more suffering.

I chuckled bitterly as another thought crept in. Anime. Manga. Light novels. I used to devour them, one after another, completely engrossed in worlds that were so much better than this one. Stories of heroes overcoming impossible odds, of redemption, of hope.

Back then, I’d always thought, Wouldn't it be nice if something like that happened to me.

What a fool I was.

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to stave off the pang of longing. I had nothing to do back then, just like now. The difference? Back then, I could rest. I could take a break, lie on my bed, and drift off to sleep without a care in the world.

Now?

Now, even closing my eyes felt like a death sentence.

I stumbled over a root, catching myself at the last second. My hood fell back, exposing my face to the cool forest air. I didn’t bother fixing it.

The trees began to thin out as I pressed forward, and soon I found myself standing at the edge of the forest. As if on cue, the sky darkened, and rain began to fall.

The first drops were cold against my skin, shocking in their clarity. I tilted my head back, letting the rain wash over me.

For a moment, I just stood there, staring up at the sky. The clouds were thick and gray, churning like a restless sea.

“How nice,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

It was the only thing I could say.

The rain soaked through my clothes, plastering my hair to my forehead, but I didn’t care. The cool droplets against my skin were a welcome distraction from the ever-present numbness that had taken root in my chest.

I let the rain fall on me for a few more moments before I pulled my hood back up and continued walking.

The landscape ahead was barren, with only patches of grass and dirt roads leading toward a small village in the distance. The faint outlines of houses and a stone wall came into view as I drew closer, though they seemed... lifeless.

When I finally reached the outskirts of the village, I was greeted by the sight of two guards standing at the entrance. Their armor glinted faintly in the rain, and their weapons were sheathed at their sides.

They didn’t say anything as I approached.

I walked right past them, my steps slow but deliberate.

They didn’t move. Didn’t even look at me.

It was like I didn’t exist.

The village itself was small, with narrow cobblestone streets and modest houses with thatched roofs. A few villagers milled about, their faces weary and drawn.

I wandered through the streets without purpose, my eyes scanning the surroundings but not truly seeing anything.

The smell of wet earth and smoke filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of something cooking in one of the houses. My stomach growled, but I ignored it. Hunger was irrelevant.

A child ran past me, splashing through a puddle as she chased after a stray cat. She didn’t even glance in my direction.

I kept walking.

The villagers went about their lives as if I were invisible, and maybe that was for the best.

I passed through the village quickly, not stopping to speak to anyone—or maybe it was that no one stopped to speak to me.

As I reached the other end of the village, the cobblestone streets gave way to dirt paths once more, leading into another forest.

The trees loomed ahead, their branches intertwining like skeletal fingers reaching toward the sky. The air grew colder as I stepped into the shadows, the sound of rain fading to a soft patter against the canopy above.

My hand tightened around the hilt of the sword at my side as I moved deeper into the woods.

The forest felt... different this time.

The air was thick with a strange energy, and every step forward felt heavier than the last.

But I didn’t stop.

I couldn’t stop.

I didn’t know where I was going, or what I was looking for.

But I kept walking.

Because if I stopped, I’d have to think. And if I thought, I’d have to face the truth.

And the truth was something I wasn’t ready to confront.

The forest was alive with death. The beasts came relentlessly, one after another, and the figure at the center of the carnage—Hoshino—moved like a ghost, silent and mechanical. His sword cleaved through scaled dragons, their roars cut short as black and crimson aura enveloped his blade. A black rabbit lunged, teeth bared, but its body was torn apart mid-air by a precise slash that painted the ground with blood.

Still, the monsters came. Goblins screeched as their crude weapons broke against Hoshino’s relentless strikes. A towering ogre swung a club large enough to crush a house, only to have its chest split open in a fountain of gore. Slimes hissed and bubbled, their gelatinous forms evaporating under the burning aura radiating from his weapon.

The world was chaos, yet within it, Hoshino’s thoughts were a different battlefield entirely.

✧

“You’re nothing but a burden.”

The voice rang clear in my mind. My father’s voice, cutting through the sound of the rain, the roars, and the screams.

“You should have never been born.”

I bit the inside of my cheek as my sword struck down a giant with a single upward swing, the creature collapsing into the trees with a deafening crash. Blood pooled around my feet, soaking the ground.

“No, that’s not real,” I whispered to myself. Or maybe I thought it. It was hard to tell anymore.

My mother’s face flashed in my mind, her eyes cold and unforgiving. Her words were like knives. “You’re such a disappointment. Why can’t you be like other kids? Why can’t you do anything right?”

“No,” I muttered, shaking my head as I thrust my blade into the chest of a shadowy, shifting mass—a creature without form, its very existence oozing malice. The sword pierced it cleanly, and it let out an unearthly wail before dissolving into the darkness.

‘It’s all fake,’I told myself. ‘Just dreams. Just nightmares. None of it’s real.’

But the memories—or whatever they were—kept coming, pressing against the fragile walls I’d built around my mind.

A speaking tree loomed ahead, its twisted branches clawing at the sky. Its face was etched into its bark, a grotesque smile that promised nothing but malice. The tree spoke in a guttural voice, cursing and mocking me. I didn’t hesitate. The sword sang as it cut through the air, severing the tree’s trunk in one clean strike.

Its laughter stopped.

✧

I used to think I had a normal childhood. Didn’t I? Or was I just lying to myself? I remembered a warm home, meals around the table, and laughter. But those memories felt... wrong now.

“You’re useless. We didn’t want you. You were a mistake.”

“No,” I whispered again, gripping the hilt of my sword so tightly that my knuckles turned white. “It’s not real. It’s not real.”

But then why did it feel so real?

The voices grew louder, overlapping, clashing, drowning out the sound of the monsters I was cutting down.

A hulking giant stomped into view, its body covered in jagged armor made of stone. Its eyes burned with rage as it swung a massive fist toward me. I dodged effortlessly, the motion fluid and instinctive. The next moment, my blade was buried in its chest. The giant roared, blood pouring from its wound, before collapsing with a thunderous crash.

I remember the times they locked me in my room. Or do I? The memories are hazy, like shadows flickering at the edge of my vision.

“You don’t deserve anything. Not love. Not kindness.”

I used to cry myself to sleep, didn’t I? Or was that just another twisted dream?

“No!” I shouted, slashing through a swarm of screeching goblins that rushed me from all sides. Their bodies fell in heaps around me, their screams silenced as quickly as they had begun.

“It wasn’t real,” I told myself, over and over. “It wasn’t real.”

The forest seemed to warp around me, the monsters growing stranger with every step. A shadow with glowing red eyes emerged from the darkness, its form constantly shifting. It didn’t have a shape, yet its presence was suffocating.

The air grew heavy as it advanced, and I felt its malice like a physical weight pressing against my chest.

“Just stop,” I muttered. My voice was barely audible, even to myself.

The shadow lunged, its body expanding like a tidal wave. I raised my sword and swung, a shockwave of black and crimson energy erupting from the blade. The shadow screeched as it was torn apart, the fragments of its form scattering like ash.

I tried to focus on the fight, on the creatures that kept coming, but my thoughts refused to stay silent.

I remembered my parents’ faces, their expressions of disdain. Or maybe they were faces I invented, cobbled together from my own fears and insecurities.

Was it really that bad? Did they really say those things?

I don’t know anymore.

“You’re worthless.”

“Yeah....”

“You’re broken.”

“I’m fine, probably.”

“You should’ve never existed.”

“Yeah, your right,” I muttered through gritted teeth, slicing through a serpent-like monster that lunged at me from above. Its body fell to the ground in pieces, its green blood hissing as it hit the dirt.

The forest seemed endless, the monsters unrelenting. A part of me wondered if it would ever stop. Another part of me didn’t care anymore.

All I could do was keep moving. Keep fighting.

Because if I stopped—if I let myself think for even a second—I wasn’t sure I’d survive what came next.

My sword slashed through another horde of creatures, their forms blurring together as the fight became a haze.

I didn’t know how many I’d killed. No matter how many i kill it doesn't matter.

I didn’t know how long I’d been walking.

But the voices in my head were louder than ever.
The rain continued to fall, soft yet relentless, soaking into my clothes and chilling me to the bone. I didn’t care. I barely noticed anymore. My feet dragged along the mud and the stones of this endless, unchanging forest. Each step felt like a mockery, a testament to the futility of movement when there was no end.

The rain wasn’t just water. It carried whispers. Shapes formed in its droplets, flickers of faces I once knew. Faces I wanted to forget. Faces I couldn't. My parents stood ahead of me, their outlines shimmering like ghosts in the rain. My father’s cold glare cut through the haze, and my mother’s twisted frown surfaced like a long-forgotten scar.

“Why are you still alive?” her voice echoed. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

But it felt real.

I don’t remember a time I was truly happy. It’s strange. Shouldn’t there have been moments? Weren’t there birthdays? Holidays? Smiles? But when I reach back into the shadows of my memories, all I find is emptiness. Laughter that sounded hollow. Words that carried no weight.

When my parents died, I remember standing at their funeral and feeling nothing. No sadness. No grief. Just a hollow sense of obligation. People whispered around me about how strong I was, about how well I was handling the loss. I wasn’t strong. I was detached.

They’re gone. That’s all I thought.

The orphanage wasn’t a home. It was a holding cell. The other kids were just as broken, just as abandoned as I was. They formed their own little families, clinging to each other like lifeboats in a storm. But I stayed alone. I couldn’t trust them. I couldn’t let them in.

Then came the new family. Wealthy, kind on the surface, but it was all a performance. They weren’t cruel, but they weren’t real either. They wanted a trophy, a story to tell their friends about how charitable they were. They didn’t see me. They saw what they wanted to see.

Middle school blurred into high school, and still, I was a ghost in my own life. A shadow passing through halls filled with noise and laughter that never reached me.

And then there was her. I don’t even remember her name anymore. That’s the cruelest part, isn’t it? She said she loved me. She said she cared. I think I believed her once. But even then, I couldn’t trust it. I couldn’t trust anyone.

The day I jumped, I remember her screaming. I remember the look on her face—a mixture of horror and betrayal. She didn’t understand. How could she? I couldn’t explain the weight, the suffocating pressure of living when every breath felt like a mistake.

I thought it would end there.

But it didn’t.

I was reincarnated. That’s what i was told, anyway. I woke up in another world, in another body, and it didn’t take long before I died again. I don’t remember how. Maybe I didn’t care enough to remember.

Then the cycle began. The orphanage again, but worse. A dystopia of cruelty and neglect that made my previous life feel like a dream. And every time I thought it couldn’t get worse, it did.

Now I’m here, in this body that isn’t mine, in a world that feels like a nightmare. I’ve died so many times I’ve lost count. Each time, the pain is worse. Each time, the hope fades a little more.

I stopped walking and looked up at the rain. The hallucinations came again, sharper this time. My parents’ faces melted into others. Friends I couldn’t name. People who might have been important once, but now were just fragments of something I couldn’t hold onto.

Except for one.

“Kenzaki,” I muttered under my breath. The only name that hadn’t faded. Why did I remember him? Was it because he mattered? Or was it because my mind refused to let go of the last thread of familiarity?

Their voices overlapped in my head, growing louder and louder until I wanted to scream. “Why didn’t you try harder?” “Why are you such a failure?” *“You were never enough.”

“No,” I whispered. “It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t real.”

But was that true? Was I just lying to myself? Had it always been like this?

I kept walking, dragging the sword behind me. Its weight felt heavier now, as though it knew I didn’t deserve to wield it.

My reflection caught my eye in a puddle at my feet. My hair, once dark, was now nearly silver, streaked with white. My eyes—if they could still be called mine—were something out of a nightmare. The right was a golden clock, its gears spinning endlessly, mocking me with their precision. The left was no better, its star-shaped pupil and crescent iris devoid of any humanity.

Lifeless. That’s what I looked like.

I stared at the reflection for a moment before turning away. It didn’t matter.

I think about those times sometimes. Playing games, watching anime, reading manga and light novels. I didn’t have much back then, but at least I had those.

Now? I have nothing. Not even a moment of rest.

The rain poured harder as I left the forest, the sky opening up like it wanted to drown the world. I pulled my hood down, letting the water soak my hair, my face. I tilted my head back and looked at the clouds.

“How cruel,” I said, my voice hollow.

The rain washed away the blood and dirt on my face, but it couldn’t touch the stains inside.

I thought about Sans.

He was my favorite character, back when I still played games. Lazy, sarcastic, always exhausted. I used to love him because he made me laugh, but now...

Now I think I understood him.

I used to think his laziness was funny, but maybe it was just easier to pretend he didn’t care. Maybe it was easier to give up than to keep fighting.

“Heh,”I chuckled .

The sound was strange, almost foreign, like it didn’t belong to me. I touched my face, surprised to feel wetness on my cheeks.

“Tears in the rain,” I muttered. “How poetic.”

I laughed again, but it broke into a sob halfway through. The tears kept falling, mixing with the rain, until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

I remembered the disease.

The doctors called it something complicated, but all I needed to know was that it was killing me. Slowly, painfully, and inevitably.

Eighteen years. That’s all I had.

I used to fight it.

I used to dream about miracles, about finding a cure or defying the odds. But after a year, I stopped.

I accepted it.

So why?

Why am I still here?

I felt something fall.

A drop of rain, or maybe a tear. It hit the ground with a soft plip, lost in the symphony of the storm.

I touched my face, my fingers brushing against my damp cheeks.

“I’m crying,” I whispered.

I didn’t even know why.

The rain kept falling, and so did the tears.

✧