Final Piece

Recorded time: January 10 2999:

“Hey, Dad, let’s go shopping!” I called out with a sudden burst of energy.
“Huh? Oh, okay,” my father replied, stumbling over his words as he processed my abrupt invitation.
We stepped outside, walking down the bustling sidewalk. The dome above us reflected a pale blue light, a faint reminder of the world’s artificial sky.
“It’s still surprising that it’s 2999, right?” I said, trying to keep the conversation light.
“Yes…” my father trailed off, eyeing me curiously. “What’s got you so bright today?”
“I slept well, that’s all,” I answered, forcing a smile.
But the truth was far from simple. It had only been ten days since I returned—ten days since I leaped out of a horrifying timeline. Somehow, the journey through space-time didn’t just shift my reality; it flung me forward in time. January 1, 2999, had already come and gone before I even realized where—or when—I was.
In these ten days, I had tried everything to contact Gaku, but no calls went through. Was he safe? Was he even alive? The uncertainty gnawed at me, but I owed him my life. For now, the only way to ensure his survival—and humanity’s—was to finish building the portal that could take me back to 2025.
If timelines don’t end when I leap, then each one I leave behind remains at risk. Worse, it’s only a matter of time before the AI robots figure out how to leap through time themselves. If they gain control of the past, they’ll dominate everything.
That’s why today mattered. My father and I were on our way to buy the final piece for my machine.
“So, where are we going?” my father asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“To a shop where swords are sold,” I replied.
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t question me further.

***

After what felt like an eternity of walking, we finally arrived at the shop I’d found online. The storefront was cluttered with holographic advertisements flashing images of advanced weaponry and sleek, digital blades. These so-called “digital swords” were hyped as being strong enough to slice through stainless steel, but that wasn’t what I needed. I was looking for something entirely different.
I approached the counter, where a man with a scruffy beard and a laid-back posture was leaning. “Hey there, do you sell swords?” I asked, cutting straight to the point.
“Whad’yer want, kid?” the man replied, his accent thick and lazy.
“I just told you what I want,” I said, already feeling my patience slip.
“Oh, right! Swords, eh? We don’t have any,” he said with a shrug.
“Whadd’yer mean ya dont have any? Why am I even talking to you like this?” I snapped, my words coming out in a mock imitation of his tone.
“It’s just mah thang,” he said, grinning as if this were the most normal exchange in the world.
I sighed. “Look, your website says you’re a blacksmith. A blacksmith works with metal and fire, not computers and code.”
“Ohhh, ya mean the blacksmith! Oi, manager!” he called toward the back room.
A tall woman with short, blond hair walked out. She had a no-nonsense air about her, and her piercing blue eyes scanned me from head to toe. “What’s the matter?” she asked in a calm but authoritative voice.
“This dud wants a sword. By a swordsmith,” the guy at the counter explained, jerking his thumb toward me.
“Is that true?” she asked, crossing her arms. Her gaze locked on mine. “Also… why is your face red?”
“Uh… uh…” I stammered, caught off guard. My mind suddenly flashed back to that day when my memories glitched, showing me fragmented images of different timelines. One was of me hanging out with strangers, another fighting AI on the battlefield, and the last… kissing someone. Someone who looked exactly like her.
“But, uh, you’re not my type,” I blurted out in a panic.
“Huh?” The woman blinked, clearly confused.
“Sorry! That was weird. I mean… uh… So, you’re the blacksmith?” I said, forcing myself to regain composure.
“Yes, I am,” she replied, arching an eyebrow at me.
“I need a really sharp sword,” I said firmly.
“How sharp?” she asked, leaning forward slightly.
“Sharp enough to cut atoms in half.”
The woman tilted her head, a faint smirk crossing her lips. “Hmm. You’re an interesting kid.”
Without another word, she turned and walked to the back. Moments later, she returned with a long, rectangular box. With a casual flick, she tossed it toward me. I caught it, the weight heavier than I’d anticipated.
“There’s an old-style katana in there,” she said, brushing off her hands. “It’s sharper than anything else you’ll find. Don’t look at it for too long, though, or your eyes might end up sliced into pieces.”
“Got it!” I said with a grin, excitement bubbling up inside me.
“That’ll be 10,000 botcoins,” she added, crossing her arms.
I blinked and turned to my dad, then dashed for the door. “You’re up, Dad!” I called over my shoulder.
“Wait—ugh…” My father sighed in exasperation, rubbing his temples as he pulled out his wallet.
“Someone has to pay, you know?” The woman said.

***

When I arrived home, my heart was racing with anticipation. I carefully opened the box and withdrew the sheathed katana. Sliding it out just slightly, I marveled at the blade’s pristine sharpness—it was everything I needed. Now, I could finally complete my machine.
Over the past ten days, I hadn’t been idle. My house lab had become a makeshift headquarters for my project: a portal to the past. My mother hadn’t questioned what I was doing since she was always swamped with work, and my dad—well, he was my biggest supporter. He helped with whatever I needed. I do hope my father actually paid for that sword back at the shop.
Stepping into the lab, I glanced at the machine I had painstakingly constructed. It was a towering silver box, with wires sprawling like veins and a large tube extending from its side. This was no ordinary contraption—it was my key to undoing everything. I unsheathed the sword completely and positioned it in front of the machine, its blade aligned perfectly with the tube ten meters away.
The setup was ready. I stepped out of the lab and sealed the door shut, ensuring that the room was airtight. The lab had been converted into a massive vacuum chamber for this exact purpose. With a deep breath, I pressed a button.
Click.
All the air evacuated from the room, leaving a perfect vacuum. I initiated the quantum particle machine, and the low hum of energy filled the air. The particle accelerator spun to life, its core glowing faintly.
I prepared the message on my phone, the key to my experiment, and hit send.
The electron carrying my message shot into the particle accelerator, accelerating to the speed of light within seconds. It zipped through the quantum converter, designed to prevent any catastrophic timeline collisions. Finally, the electron exited the machine, hurtling toward the sword.
As it struck the blade, the sheer velocity shattered the katana, but not before the sword’s legendary sharpness split the electron into two halves. The split particles, desperately trying to rejoin, created a rift in space as they spread apart at impossible speeds. The gap between them distorted and glitched, and then—
A portal appeared.
I stood in stunned silence. The glowing, swirling vortex confirmed what I had theorized. I had created a portal to the past.
The resulting energy blast broke part of the lab’s wall, letting air rush back into the chamber, but I didn’t care. My father, who had been watching from the doorway, was speechless.
I walked back into the lab, picking up the broken katana from the floor. Its blade was cracked and useless now, but it had served its purpose. I couldn’t help but wonder—what if it hadn’t worked? But thanks to the quantum converter, any potential disasters had been mitigated. Still, there was no time to dwell on hypotheticals.
“Well, isn’t this nice?” The voice caught me off guard. A familiar, female voice.
“You actually did it. I’m so proud of you,” said my mother, stepping into the lab.
“Thanks,” I replied, smiling faintly. “It wasn’t easy, though.”
“You’ve done good,” she said, walking closer to me.
But I still needed to check something out, I raised the katana and swung. The blade sliced through her torso with ease, revealing wires, circuits, and metal beneath.
“So, you are a robot,” I said coldly, fury boiling within me.
The fake ‘mom’ stood still, avoiding my gaze.
“Listen up!” I barked. “I’m going back in time to test if this portal really works. By the time I return, you’d better tell me where my real mother is and how to save her!”
The robot nodded slowly, her expression eerily somber. I could see a faint trace of sadness in her synthetic eyes, but I refused to feel pity for an AI impostor.
“See you then,” I said, turning toward the portal. “Dad, keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t try anything.”
“I understand,” my father said, his voice steady but filled with concern.
Without looking back, I stepped into the portal. The swirling energy enveloped me, and I braced myself for whatever was to come.
This has to work.
As I stepped through the portal, the sensation of time and space bending around me abruptly stopped, and I found myself sprawled on the floor. The surroundings were disorienting—dim, unfamiliar, and nothing like the neon-lit, cyberpunk world I was used to in 2999.
I squinted, trying to adjust to the darkness. The only light came from the portal still swirling behind me, its glow faintly illuminating the space. It appeared to be a basement. Dust particles floated in the dim air, the silence only broken by the faint hum of the portal.
I stood up slowly and moved forward cautiously, hands outstretched to avoid bumping into anything. But despite my efforts, I walked straight into something solid—a door.
“Ugh…” I muttered, rubbing my forehead. At least I didn’t break anything, though my head wasn’t so lucky.
I tried the doorknob, half-expecting it to be locked, but to my surprise, it turned easily. The door creaked open, revealing a staircase leading upward. From the top of the stairs, I could see a faint light spilling into the hallway.
Step by step, I ascended the stairs, my eyes scanning the surroundings. As I reached the top, I stepped into what appeared to be a living room.
The sight caught me off guard. It was messy—papers scattered across the floor, shards of broken glass glittering under the dim light—but it felt... homey. So this is what living rooms looked like in 2025. The warmth and clutter were a far cry from the sterile, overly illuminated spaces of my time.
I took another step forward, lost in thought, when a sudden sound snapped me back to reality.
Clang!
Something whizzed past me, and my instincts kicked in. I quickly summoned my control over nanobots, forming a makeshift shield just in time. The object—a sharp, metal fragment—collided with my shield, shattering it into tiny fragments but giving me just enough time to dodge.
“People really need to stop breaking in here,” said a groggy yet sharp voice from my left.
I spun toward the source, finding myself face-to-face with a girl in her twenties. She was wearing soft-looking pajamas, her hair slightly messy, and her expression spoke of annoyance more than fear. She rubbed her eyes lazily as if she’d just been woken up.
“I just wanted to sleep for five more hours,” she muttered irritably.
“Hold on!” I stammered, still catching my breath. “I’m not here to cause trouble—I’m here to see Gaku!”
The girl tilted her head, unconvinced. “I know. Everyone is.” She sighed dramatically, her demeanor more exasperated than aggressive. “And by the number of break-ins we’ve had, I really need to relieve some stress.”
“W-What do you mean by that?” I asked, inching back slightly.
The girl stretched lazily, then cracked her knuckles. Her next words made my heart skip a beat.
“I, Shirogane Layla, the girlfriend of physicist Gaku Hoshino, am going to kill you.”
“Huh?!” I shouted, my mind racing as she raised her hand, ready to attack again.

To be continued…