Betrayal?

The forest stood still around them. Birds didn’t chirp. Wind didn’t rustle. It was as if nature itself was holding its breath.

The trio sat in the clearing. Haruto sat apart from the others, sitting cross-legged near a tree. His eyes were vacant, not quite seeing the stretch of trees before him. He hadn’t spoken anything. He barely breathed.

Asahi knelt beside Ren, who lay on the grass. His brush was still gripped in his fingers, stained with black ink.

Asahi brushed Ren’s hair gently. “He’s alive,” he whispered to himself. A flicker of relief crossed his face.

But the silence dragged on.

Asahi looked towards Haruto before finally breaking the silence. “What happened back there, Ren…? What did you do?”

Haruto didn’t answer. His gaze shifted to the other side.

Asahi hesitated, then gently lowered Ren to rest and crossed the clearing. He stood in front of Haruto for a long moment.

He sat down across from him. “Did you really die back there?”

Haruto didn’t answer right away. Then, softly: “Yea.”

Asahi frowned. “I remember everything. Flashes. Pain. Your face, when I died.” He paused. “And when you died.”

Haruto’s fingers curled slightly.

“You’re hiding something,” Asahi said. “From the both of us.”

Haruto nodded slowly, but his expression didn’t change.

Ren stirred.

He whimpered quietly before his eyes fluttered open. “Asahi…?”

“I’m here,” Asahi said instantly. “You’re safe. It’s okay.”

Ren blinked at him, confused at first, then look at his own hand. The brush was still there.

“Haruto?”

Asahi’s voice softened. “He’s here. But… what did you do, Ren?”

Ren slowly nodded his head. Asahi could understand from his facial expressions that Ren himself didn’t know what had happened.

Haruto finally spoke in a low voice, as if he were speaking to himself. “It wasn’t supposed to be Ren.”

Asahi turned sharply. “What?”

Haruto looked away.

That silence returned again. Then he stood up, brushing the dirt off his clothes.

“We have to move. We’re not safe yet.”

Asahi narrowed his eyes. “You keep saying that. Like you know what’s coming next.”

No response.

“It started before the facility, didn’t it?” Asahi continued. “Before I ever met you?”

Haruto’s voice was quiet. “Akane… It started with her.”

He closed his eyes.

Years ago. She had run away.

Through the rain, through the slums where every corner bled.

“Akane!” he had shouted. His voice tore through the night, but she didn’t stop. Not after what she saw.

Haruto never forgot her face. Betrayal, but deeper than that. Fear. She had found the reports Yukawa had forged. Everything Haruto had done. That he’d killed their father. That he’d known everything all along. Not the truth she spit at him:

“You said you didn’t remember them! You said it was Yukawa who had killed him. You lied to me! You promised… you’d take me back to them…”

And she had run. She had gone with them. With Yukawa. With the ones who had promised her a way to “fix” things.

And she had believed him.

It wasn’t until much later, until the Veil cracked and the world began to bleed.

She had left behind a letter. It was hidden inside a music box they used to share, tucked beneath the paper lining. It read:

“They told me you remember everything. I didn’t want to believe it… but I had to choose. I’m sorry. I never wanted you to die. I just wanted us to go back. They say I can be the first. If this works, maybe you’ll hate me forever. But you’ll live. That’s enough. You were never meant to carry this alone. I just… wasn’t strong enough to carry it with you.”

He had read those words over and over until the ink blurred.

Akane hadn’t betrayed him. She had sacrificed herself… to protect him from something he still couldn’t see. She had loved him too much to let him be part of it.

But by the time he understood that…

She was already gone.

Presently, in the forest, Haruto sat silently.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like that. She thought she could save me,” he murmured.

“She died thinking I’d hate her forever.”

He closed his eyes. “And I did.”

Asahi didn’t speak. But in the silence, he understood: Akane had saved them all in her own way.

Night fell.

The trio huddled around a small campfire. They had made a crude camp with gathered wood and a rock outcrop for shelter. Ren had fallen asleep again.

Asahi had taken to sketching in his notebook, mapping their surroundings. Nothing resembled the place they had originally came from. All their items were lost. He closed the book and turned to Haruto, who was staring into the flames.

He pulled something from his coat. The corner of a folded letter, soft from wear. He stared at it for a long time before sliding it into the flames. For a moment, the fire flared, and then it was gone.

“There’s a safehouse,” Asahi said. “West, near the base of the mountains. We might find answers there. It’s controlled by the Archivists.”

Haruto flinched at the word. “Archivists.”

“You’ve already been there before, haven’t you?” Asahi asked, watching him closely.

“No,” Haruto lied.

But the pause was too long. Asahi knew it.

“I think you’ve known for a while now,” Asahi muttered. “Whatever’s happening to us. To ren. To the world.”

Haruto didn’t argue.

Elsewhere…

The ruined corridors of the Sanctuary groaned. Smoke drifted through broken beams and scattered glass. In the wreckage stood Yukawa, one arm scorched and bleeding from the confrontation.

He stared into the fire-lit hallway.

“So you let them go,” a voice came from behind.

A figure emerged from the shadows. Cloaked in black and gold, their face hidden beneath a smooth ceramic mask.

Yukawa didn’t look at them. “They ran. For now.”

“You watched the painter awaken and did nothing?”

“I learned more in a minute of watching than in months of experiments,” Yukawa said calmly. “And now, Ishikawa remembers. That alone is worth the cost.”

The figure tilted their head. “You sound… sentimental?”

Yukawa chuckled softly. “Sentiment is for corpses. I’m just… patient.”

The masked figure stepped closer.

“So… the painter has awakened.”

Yukawa smiled as blood dripped from his lips. “Yes. It’s all going accordingly.”

“Finally… it begins, again.”