——"Shrinking down like this, getting stubborn... You really are just a child, aren't you. It's painful to look at, hah."
Listening to
He had shut himself away, clung to his conviction, stopped listening to anyone around him, and grown obstinate. But this was the surest way, the way that caused the least damage.
If he could exploit the world's resets and receive infinite chances to try again—as long as he kept paying the price with his life, he could keep challenging forever. Within that loop, his heart would surely fray and almost tear apart, time and again.
But every time he felt himself about to shatter into fragile pieces, he had already been given words strong enough to rally himself.
——"Subaru-kun, you're
That was enough. For Subaru, those words alone were sufficient.
If there was an image of everyone waiting on the other side of a soul ground down to dust, then he wanted nothing more.
What could possibly be wrong with that?
"——Baru, are you cwying?"
Suddenly, a small child's voice cut through the silence, and the witches each drew a faint breath.
A tiny palm patted the crown of Subaru's curled-up head. He raised his blurred, tear-filled gaze, and there, faintly lit before him, was a brown-skinned girl.
The
The girl's eyes glowed with a hostile light as she studied each witch's face in turn—until she noticed
"Te-wa? Te-wa's here? Why? Long time no see!"
She waved her raised hand toward Satella, yet the combative gleam in Typhon's eyes never dimmed. It was Sekhmet who was the first to address the girl's stance, letting out a languid sigh as she straightened up.
"Typhon... hah. She's in the middle of something right now, hah. Don't刺激 her, hah. Come over here, hah."
"Ha-ha, did you do something bad to Baru? Ha-ha, are you a bad guy?"
"Your mother, hah. Doesn't have nearly enough energy to become a villain, hah. I don't feel like working myself, and I certainly don't feel like making you work either, hah."
Typhon nodded briefly at Sekhmet's answer but showed no intention of moving away from Subaru. Instead, she turned her gaze toward
"Minwa—? You're not bullying Baru, wight?"
"Why does nobody ask me? That's just strange. It's not like I'm always, always healing people—I too, once in a while, let those smoldering violent feelings inside me have their way and hurt... I might, maybe, hurt someone..."
"A child who turns pale just from imagining it seems unlikely to actually start a violent altercation."
"Dona. Dona, did you do something bad again? Are you a bad guy?"
"Why is it that you only make definitive accusations toward me? I'd really like to ask your guardian in detail about that, but I wonder how that will go?"
"It's your usual behavior, hah."
Sekhmet pressed her palm to her forehead as though exhausted. Typhon refused to leave Subaru's side, remaining vigilant and determined to find the culprit who had "made Baru cry."
Echidna narrowed her eyes at the young witch's earnest posture and murmured, "Even so..."
"If Typhon shows up here too, we're practically all assembled. If
"You called for Daphne just now?"
As if responding to Echidna's remark, a black-lacquered coffin materialized abruptly on the grassland.
Inside, bound in restraints that sealed her entire body, with even her eyes shut, was the Witch of Gluttony—Daphne.
She twitched her small nose and seemed to identify everyone present by smell alone.
"Subaru-n aside, Te-wa-Tewa's here too? Isn't that amazing? All seven of the Great Witches gathered together, plus a candidate for Sage..."
"Daphne. —He hasn't gotten that far yet."
"...Oh, my apologies. Even so... *sniff sniff.* It smells salty in here—was someone crying? Was it Rem-Rem?"
Her dull, listless voice loosened the tension in the air, oblivious to the gravity of the situation.
With Satella included, all seven witches assembled in this dreamscape castle—a sight that had rarely, if ever, materialized even in the witches' heyday four hundred years ago.
Just seven people, yet these were the witches who had once plunged the world into chaos. And with some of them on a hair-trigger, this gathering contained a concentration of power that could, depending on how things unfolded, reshape the very form of the world.
The Witch of Pride had come to deliver judgment upon the one who had made a shrinking boy cry.
The Witch of Wrath clenched her fist tight, prepared to fulfill the wishes of a dear witch standing at her side.
The Witch of Sloth kept a watchful eye on everyone's movements, lounging with the lazy readiness to crush anyone at a moment's notice.
The Witch of Lust maintained a posture of detachment, ready to protect herself alone should things spiral unexpectedly.
The Witch of Gluttony, for whom changes in the situation no longer mattered in the slightest, was busy deliberating whose finger she should gnaw on to best satisfy her hunger.
The Witch of Greed, finding one particular witch's presence irksome, let her eyes gleen with curiosity about how this tea party—who knew what the outcome would be—would unfold.
And Satella, who was not the Witch of Envy— "I love you. —Because you gave me light. Because you held my hand and taught me about the world outside. Because on the nights I trembled in loneliness, you stayed beside me and held my hand the whole time. Because when I was left alone, you kissed me and told me I wasn't alone. I received so much from you. ...That is why I love you. Because you—because you gave me everything."
"————"
Satella's whisper held nothing that Subaru could recognize as his own experience.
He didn't know. He knew nothing. He had never met Satella, never exchanged words with her, never shared warmth with her—not once. What she spoke of was the product of delusion: a woman driven mad by obsession, spouting fantasies with no basis in reality and projecting illusions onto him.
And yet—'
"Why...? What is this inside me? I don't want feelings like this. Don't chain me down with memories that never existed. I—I don't need you, I don't need—!"
All he had to do was say he hated her. That was all.
He just had to tell the one reaching out toward him that he held not a shred of affection for her. And when he did, it would be quite a spectacle to see the face of someone who selfishly tried to twist another person's emotions to her own ends. She would surely distort her features in a grand display of heartache.
——So why are you the one who can't do that to her?
"Baru?"
"Bocchan..."
"That child..."
"You..."
"Subaru-n?"
"——Ah, that too is a valid choice, Natsuki Subaru."
Each of the witches called out to Subaru in turn, and Echidna tucked her chin slightly, as if evaluating the results.
"——Guh."
Still crouching on the ground, Subaru had bitten through his own tongue.
Cornered by the witches, he had lost all understanding of anything.
In a situation where even the nature of his own heart was being twisted, if even his will was no longer free—what did Subaru have left?
Having his stubbornness overridden and being simply denied, that would have been one thing.
But if contact with Satella made him even capable of accepting denial—what Subaru feared was that.
——If he lost his life in the dreamscape castle, what would happen then?
His physical body was supposed to be resting in the tomb of the '
What had been called here was his spiritual body—essentially, his soul alone. If his spiritual body perished here, would that feedback into the physical body? Or would it be the death of a soul?
He wouldn't bother figuring it out. If death meant starting over, he was prepared for that.
Without borrowing the witches' help, he would strip away more of himself than ever before, drive out every extraneous element, and push forward with nothing but pure effort—surely a path would open. That way, he— "You idiot—!"
The instant Minerva realized Subaru's intent to kill himself, she rolled up her sleeves and charged forward, ready to smash him with her healing-infused fist. But before she could reach him, the one who cut in was Typhon—the girl who had been standing beside Subaru.
The young witch spread her small body as wide as it would go, placing herself squarely in Minerva's path.
"Baru chose for himself! Minwa, you can't intewvene!"
"Suicide, self-destruction, self-harm, murder—I will not permit a single one in front of my eyes! What do I care about mental anguish! What do I care about invisible wounds! So instead, I will never turn a blind eye to wounds I can see!"
Minerva lunged and cratered the ground with a single step, her fist piercing through the air toward Typhon's face.
The power behind the blow could shatter mountains—but the moment it struck a living creature, the destructive energy converted into healing energy. The shockwave and the raw impact, however, would still strike the target head-on.
A thunderous boom rang out. Minerva's fully extended arm scored a direct hit and sent Typhon flying.
The girl's undeveloped body was hurled through the air like a leaf, soaring high against the false blue sky of the grassland. A merciless sight—but Typhon was not the only one who suffered.
"————!"
Minerva's right arm, flung wide, shattered from the shoulder down like ice crystals.
It was the consequence of having touched the judgment of the Witch of Pride—and having her action deemed 'evil.' Minerva threw her head back and screamed to the sky, mouth wide open— "Ah, screw that—!!"
Nothing.
The Witch of Wrath, so exquisitely sensitive to others' pain, was endlessly negligent when it came to her own.
Indeed, she was every bit as careless with herself as Natsuki Subaru had ever been.
"At least now—!"
The obstruction was gone. Minerva twisted her remaining left arm and leaped toward Subaru. From directly above, her mighty fist descended— "The next obstruction would be me, hah."
Blonde hair whipping through the air, in the space of a heartbeat Minerva was slammed into the ground.
Pinned face-down, her body pressing an imprint into the grassland, Minerva lifted her head and screamed at the crimson-faced Sekhmet, who sat in a hugging-her-knees posture.
"Don't get in my way—! Sekhmet—!"
"That won't do, hah. Emotionally speaking, I'm on that boy's side, hah. On top of that, I'm also on Typhon's side, hah. There's no reason not to obstruct, hah."
At Sekhmet's declaration of opposition, Minerva bit her lip in frustration and looked around.
But Daphne and
Her voice trembled as she watched Subaru, who had collapsed to his knees, pouring blood from his mouth in great gouts.
Glugging, choking, the flood of blood and his severed tongue clogging his throat—Subaru, drowning in the sensation, caught a glimpse of Satella's state at the edge of his consciousness.
Was she crying?
Seeing Subaru's 'death,' she appeared shaken beyond measure.
"Why don't you realize...? That you yourself are included among everything you wish to save—it's so obvious."
Why did she think of him that way?
In his delusions, just how much had he sustained her heart?
"Those people gasping at a dead end in fate—they're the same as you. The only difference is that you have the possibility of overturning it. Just that alone... You yourself are someone who should be saved, so why—"
It was all wrong.
Subaru was a hopeless case. He couldn't even accomplish the things he thought were within reach, couldn't save even those he wanted to save, and he still hadn't escaped the trap of being half-hearted.
Hadn't he sworn to break free from that? Hadn't he decided to stop being half-assed?
Hadn't he told himself to stop posturing?
——Within himself, the weak version of him and the version that refused to be weak were locked in struggle.
Natsuki Subaru's weakness could never be shown to anyone again.
He had to live as strong, noble, and stalwart—as a hero ought to live.
A single girl had wished that of him. That was a curse Subaru had placed upon her, and Subaru owed a debt to repay her—her whom he had bound with that curse. No. It wasn't a matter of obligation. He simply wanted to be the person she believed he was—worthy of that belief.
Because she had told him she loved him, he wanted to remain someone she could keep saying she loved.
Yes. That was it.
That was it.
If there was someone who would grieve over Natsuki Subaru's 'death'—it would be her.
Choosing 'death' would be a betrayal of the girl who believed in him. Of course, Subaru did not intend for 'death' to be the end. He was prepared to trample even death underfoot—using it as a stepping stone to drive out the reasons for dying, to reclaim everything.
But what about those left behind by the Subaru who chose 'death'?
He shouldn't think about it.
He mustn't know. It was a dangerous line of thinking.
It was fine. This was fine for Natsuki Subaru.
He must not think that his life was something anyone would grieve for.
He wasn't worth that. Subaru's life was expendable. Something to use up, and use up, and use until it was spent—reaching the very end was all that mattered. It should remain expendable.
Spare no dignity, exploit his own death as a tool, and never face the weight of dying.
Cut it off. He didn't need to think about any of it. This was the resolve to discard what must be discarded in order to pick up what he wanted. Everyone did it. Subaru could do it too.
If he could save the precious people who deserved to be saved, that was enough.
As long as he could do that, Subaru— "What on earth... did you see in those two 'Ordeals'...?"
Ordeals. Ordeals. Ordeals—'ordeals.' Ordeal ordeal ordeal, 'ordeal' ordeal ordeal ordeal, ordeal—?
Lack of oxygen and shock had slowed his thinking to a crawl.
His vision was growing increasingly unsteady. The world began flickering red, static running through it like snow on a television screen, and Subaru hazily wondered whether the end was coming at last.
The end arrived slowly.
This was not his first time facing 'death'—he had lost count—but that was fine.
Eventually, he would die so many times that counting would become loathsome.
He doubted he could maintain the mental state to keep track of how many times he had died.
He would need a heart of steel.
An unbreakable, ironclad heart— And with that, Subaru's consciousness slipped away, slowly, slowly— And eventually vanished.
※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ '—I'm counting on you, son.' A voice.
Through the static, amid the chaotic reflections of sound, a voice—impossibly clear—reached him.
'—Come back safe.' Another voice.
A different voice, but one that carried the same meaning to his heart.
'I wanted to call you... my friend.' A different voice. A different feeling.
A voice that made him feel restless, unsettled. And yet, comfortable.
'Subaru-dono... I am... so sorry...' Yet another voice.
What rose in his chest was a loneliness, something akin to longing—an ache of guilt.
'That you're not that person... I understand... but—' A voice that squeezed his heart tight.
Hearing it, he found himself suddenly unable to endure. A voice that sounded like it might cry. A voice he must not let cry. A voice he had to protect. A voice. A voice. A voice.
'Show me something cool, Subaru-kun.' Deep inside him, something burst in response.
Heat spread through his body. A sense of duty surged forward. This was the voice that had been supporting him all along.
And— 'Thank you, Subaru.' A voice.
'—For saving me.' The voice that announced the beginning of everything.
※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Would they cry?
The precious people Subaru held dear—if they learned that he had died, would they grieve for him?
The irreplaceable ones left behind in a world he had selfishly escaped through experiencing 'death'—would they have mourned his passing, lamented his loss?
Regretting that they had been a step too short, that they had failed to reach Subaru in time as he repeated 'Return by Death' in pursuit of the best outcome—would they have looked back on that moment with remorse?
There were people he considered precious.
People he believed he had to protect.
People he yearned to rescue from their dead-end fate.
——Was he someone worth being mourned by those precious people?
Could he allow himself to be that conceited?
That someone as worthless as him was nonetheless a precious existence in their eyes?
Could he believe that?
That he was someone they wanted to protect, someone they needed—someone as pathetic as him?
Could he allow himself to wish for it?
That there were people who would weep at the loss of someone like him, and reach out a hand to save him?
——Could he allow himself to think that?
That he didn't want to die?
That he didn't want to resign himself to a situation where there was no other way?
That he didn't want to vanish as a stepping stone meant to protect the futures of his precious people?
That he wanted to be there—in that protected future—alongside them?
Was it okay to think that way?
Did he have the right?
If he did—then— "I don't... want to die..."
A lump of blood spilled with a wet sound, and air escaped through his reopened throat along with his voice. The tongue he had bitten through had sealed it off, but now it parted—he gasped for oxygen, his mouth working open and shut. His lungs expanded, oxygen flooded his brain, and his blurred vision began to return.
And then— "That's obviously how you really feel—"
—the Witch of Wrath, her face flushed red, had headbutted Subaru to heal him and, even with both legs gone, had willed herself all the way to where he lay.