Chapter 20

Tadashi reached the edge of a cliffside when the sun was at its highest. The forest stretched endlessly below him, but for the first time, it didn’t look like a prison.

It looked like something he survived.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

One more day.

One more fight.

The day began quietly.

Too quietly.

Tadashi felt it the moment he woke up — the air was different. Heavy. Still. Even the leaves seemed to pause in place.

He stood slowly, adjusting his grip on the spear. His hands were stiff, and every muscle in his back ached from sleeping on roots and dirt.

But something in him felt clear.

“I made it this far…” he whispered.

“Just one more day.”

He started walking.

The path ahead twisted more than usual. Branches hung low, forcing him to duck. The ground dipped unevenly, making every step feel like a test.

Tadashi moved carefully, breathing slow and steady.

He conserved energy.

He listened.

He stayed alert.

Around midmorning, he caught the sound of hooves in the distance.

A herd of deer.

They sprinted in the opposite direction, crashing through bushes, their panic clear. Tadashi froze.

Animals only ran like that when something bigger was behind them.

He tightened his grip on the spear.

“…Not wolves again. Please.”

But nothing came out of the trees. The forest swallowed the sound and returned to silence.

Tadashi exhaled shakily and kept going.

The berries he’d relied on grew sparse in this area. Tadashi’s stomach growled so loudly it startled a bird from a nearby branch.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” he muttered.

He drank from the stream when he found it, but water wasn’t enough. His legs felt weaker, and his head buzzed lightly.

He searched for something…anything — he could eat safely.

Eventually, he found a small patch of the same berries he’d eaten days ago. He tested one. Safe.

He ate them slowly, thanking Goro under his breath.

As the sun dipped behind the trees, Tadashi reached a part of the forest he’d never seen. The trees here were huge—ancient, almost—and the shadows they cast made everything darker than it should be.

He stepped carefully.

The hairs on his arms rose.

Something was off.

Then he heard it — a low growl.

Not wolves.

Lower.

Heavier.

Tadashi’s heart jumped painfully.

He held his spear tight and backed away, eyes scanning between the trees.

A pair of yellow eyes stared back at him from the dark.

A large cat.

Bigger than the mountain cat from before.

Its muscles rippled under its fur as it stepped into the faint light.

Tadashi’s breathing slowed on instinct.

He remembered Goro’s voice:

“Don’t run unless you got a death wish.”

Tadashi didn’t run.

He stood his ground, feet planted, spear angled forward. The big cat circled him, slow and confident, tail flicking. Its eyes didn’t blink.

Tadashi swallowed.

“You’re not… taking this from me,” he whispered.

The cat lunged.

Tadashi dodged left, barely avoiding the claws. He stumbled but didn’t fall. He jabbed the spear forward, aiming not to kill but to warn.

The cat hissed, swiping again. Tadashi blocked with the shaft of the spear, the impact sending shock through his arms.

He staggered back.

His lungs burned.

His legs shook.

But he stayed standing.

The cat circled again.

Tadashi stepped sideways, making himself look bigger, louder than he felt.

“Go!” he shouted, voice cracking.

“Please just… go!”

The cat paused.

Then — unbelievably — it slowly stepped back. It turned and vanished into the forest’s shadows. Tadashi sank to his knees the moment it was gone, gasping for breath, gripping the spear to stay upright.

“That… was too close…”

But he survived.

Again.

The sun faded. The sky dimmed to grey. And Tadashi felt the exhaustion catch him like a wave.

Night would be the hardest part. He knew that.

Night was when the forest came alive.

When predators hunted.

When mistakes meant death.

He had to find shelter — fast.

He moved quickly but carefully, scanning every corner. His legs wobbled. His eyes burned. His breaths came out shaky.

Then he found it.

A hollow under a large fallen tree — wide enough for him to crawl into, narrow enough that most predators wouldn’t bother.

“Perfect,” he whispered.

He gathered dry grass and twigs, setting them near the entrance but leaving enough airflow. With tired hands, he sparked a small fire. It wasn’t strong, but it was enough to give off light and warmth. He crawled inside, hugging his legs to his chest.

Night fell fully.

The forest’s sounds grew sharper — owls, branches shifting, distant howls, the hum of insects.

Tadashi stared at the flickering firelight.

“Tomorrow…” he whispered.

“Just make it to tomorrow…”

His eyes felt heavy, body aching everywhere. His mind replayed Goro’s words again and again.

“Walk toward what made you smile.”

“Keep breathing.”

“Don’t be the one who ends your own story.”

Tadashi pressed his forehead to his knees.

“…Goro… I’m still here.”

Outside, something rustled — maybe a fox, maybe something bigger — but Tadashi didn’t look.

He trusted the fire to keep most animals away.

He trusted Goro’s lessons to get him through.

He trusted himself — just a little.

For the first time.

He kept his eyes half-open, fighting sleep, guarding the tiny fire, waiting…

Waiting…

Until the sky slowly began to lighten.

Soft grey.

Then pale blue.

He survived.

Tadashi stood in the morning light, barely breathing.

Day Eight.

He said it once.

Then again.

Then a third time — each one shakier than the last.

But then something strange stirred inside him. A spark behind his eyes, pressure in his chest. A trembling sensation in his fingertips.

“…W-What…?”

The world around him blurred.

Then—

The betrayal, the mockery, the panic of waking up in the same bed for the 90th time, the confusion of not knowing where he was, the torture, the fear that chased him through every attempt.

His breath hitched as more memories slammed into him:

The first creature he ever ran from, the first time he realized he could die in this place, the first reset and the shock of opening his eyes again, moments of desperation, moments he wanted to scream, moments he wanted to collapse and never get up, moments he felt completely alone.

His body trembled, legs weakened.

More memories surged:

The times he fought despite shaking, he times he forced himself to keep running, the moments he clung to life instinctively, even when fear froze his lungs, the tiny wins, a safe branch to hide on, a small fire he managed to build.

And then—

Goro.

The old man’s laugh, his scolding, attitude, patience, advice, and his final smile. Tadashi’s eyes overflowed. He fell to his knees as the memories spiraled faster and faster:

He remembered everything.

A soft, shaky laugh slipped out of him.

“I… I did it…”

He covered his face with his hands, overwhelmed.

“I actually did it.”

His chest swelled — not with pride, but with relief so strong it almost hurt. He felt the weight of all his attempts, the exhaustion of all his resets, the heaviness of every fear and every night.

And then—

The memories in his mind shattered into light, the forest dissolved like sand blowing away in the wind, a soft tremor passed through his body.

Then—

Darkness, stillness, weightlessness.

Tadashi stood on nothing. Yet somehow, he still existed. The void wrapped around him like a warm, calm ocean. Small particles of white light drifted in every direction — slow, peaceful, shimmering like falling snow.

Tadashi whispered,

“Where… am I?”

A voice answered him from behind:

“IN THE PLACE WHERE TIME STOPS.”

Tadashi turned.

The same entity Tadashi first met after his initial death walked toward him, each step gentle as if he was walking on sunlight. He looked the same as before — calm, timeless, and impossibly still. But this time, he smiled softly.

“YOU SURVIVED,” the god said.

Tadashi swallowed.

“I… I did.”

“YOU ENDURED SEVEN DAYS OF A WORLD THAT WNATED TO BREAK YOU,” the god continued.

“SEVEN DAYS OF FEAR, HUNGER, LOSS AND CHOICES YOU WERE NEVER READY TO MAKE.”

Tadashi lowered his head as the god kept walking.

“BUT YOU WALKED ANYWAY.”

Tadashi’s hands clenched. The god lifted his palm, creating a sphere of warm, golden light. Inside it swirled blurred images of Tadashi’s journey:

Running, falling, hiding, fighting, breathing through panic, pushing through exhaustion, protecting someone he barely knew, standing up when it would’ve been easier not to.

“YOU CARRY THESE MEMORIES NOW,” the god said gently. “NOT AS CHAINS…BUT AS PROOF.”

Tadashi stared at the sphere, eyes widening. Then the enitity closed his hand, and the light faded.

“YOU’VE EARNED YOUR WISH.”

Tadashi raised his head.

The god’s voice was soft — not booming, not divine, just warm.

“SPEAK, TADASHI! WHAT DOES YOUR HEART DESIRE?”

Tadashi didn’t need time to think.

“I want to go back, back to the world I came from, back to Nao… and my friends.”

The god nodded slowly.

Light began to wrap around Tadashi. The entity raised a hand in farewell.

Tadashi felt himself drifting backward — gently, like falling into a warm dream.

“Thank you,” Tadashi whispered.

The entity answered:

“WE WILL MEET AGAIN. WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT.”

Then—

Light swallowed him.

The void faded.

And the world returned.