Three Days After Abe and Renji's Reunion...
Abe sat on the old wooden chair in his dimly lit living room. His eyes were blank, locked on the window fogged by the morning dew. Silence reigned. No birds, no wind—only the steady ticking of the wall clock and the weight of his own breath.
On the table, that photo still lay there—the one that claimed Renji was his brother.
But now… he knew.
It was all a lie.
"So," Abe whispered, barely audible, "you lied to me."
Renji stood by the door, his posture relaxed, his smile unnervingly calm. Not warm. Not apologetic. But cold. Detached. The smile of someone who had never felt guilt.
"Of course," Renji said. "You actually believed it? You wanted a brother so badly that you accepted anything I gave you. You're more broken than I thought."
Abe clenched his fists. His voice cracked. "Why...? Why would you do this?"
"To test you. To see just how much pain one human mind can endure. And wow… You surprised me, Abe-kun. I almost started to believe my own lies."
His words sliced deeper than any knife.
Abe's breathing grew shaky.
"You're telling me… none of it was real?"
Renji stepped closer. "Not the photo. Not the story. Not the connection. Nothing. You've always been alone, Abe. You were just too desperate to admit it."
Abe's world crumbled. Again.
His mind spun, searching for something—anything—to hold on to.
"But... what about Takahashi...?"
Renji chuckled. "Takahashi? He was never really on your side. He was just a disposable piece. Everyone is. Even you."
Abe's knees gave out.
He collapsed onto the floor. The coldness of the wood met his palms. He couldn't breathe.
His thoughts screamed:
"I don't want to hear this. I don't want this to be true."
But it was.
Everything he thought he knew—
Everything he thought he had—
Was fabricated. A cruel narrative. A psychological maze with no exit.
He clutched his head as if he could press the pain away.
His mind began to split.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
His body shook violently. His vision blurred.
And then—darkness.
When he opened his eyes, something was… off.
The reflection in the mirror was no longer familiar.
His hair had turned white—a striking, unnatural silver.
His eyes... sharper. Emptier.
His posture... no longer anxious or fragile.
But composed. Cold.
"...Who am I?"
The voice that escaped his lips sounded like him, but it wasn't.
There was something new behind it—an edge. A chill.
Then he smiled.
Soft. Hollow. Dangerous.
"Don't worry, Abe. You don't have to feel pain anymore. I'll carry it for you now."
A second self. Born from trauma. From betrayal.
From abandonment.
And from that moment on,
Abe was no longer just Abe.