The massacre was over. The sky had calmed. Smoke still lingered in the air, and debris from shattered aircraft floated slowly to the earth like mechanical snowflakes. Itsumi's body, after the unimaginable strain of pushing his magical shield beyond its limits, finally gave in. His form crashed violently into the ground. Unmoving, unconscious… barely breathing.
The members of Tanya's battalion gathered around him cautiously, unsure of what to make of this inhuman display of power. Viktoriya knelt first, cradling Itsumi's head with trembling arms, whispering to him through tears of disbelief and frustration. "You idiot... you damn idiot, what were you thinking…"
Tanya herself stood over them, quiet and contemplative. The boy had survived. The boy had saved them. And the boy… was not just a soldier. He was something else entirely.
They brought him with them—there was no reason not to. The Empire of the East wouldn't come for him anytime soon. If anything, they would be grateful to offload the responsibility. Tanya ordered that he be taken to one of the inner military zones of the Empire, deep behind the front lines. There, he was given a private room and placed under the care of a skilled field nurse.
For days, Itsumi remained unconscious. The nurses said his body was healing, but the strain had been immense. Tanya visited once, silently observing the boy from the doorway. Viktoriya visited daily, always placing a cup of warm tea by his bedside—always hoping.
But while his body rested, Itsumi's mind did not.
Within the depths of his unconsciousness, his dreams twisted into a mire of pain and memory. Visions from the war flickered through the fog—his squad screaming, the look in his captain's eyes, the warmth of Viktoriya's kindness... only to be swallowed by the faces of the dead, the distant screams of jet engines, and the roar of explosions. Blood. Fire. Silence.
And in that silence, something cracked open.
A soft light pierced through the darkness, and in its center stood the one he least wanted to see.
Being X.
Itsumi didn't move at first. His eyes scanned the empty void of his dreamscape, then narrowed at the figure before him. He looked tired. Disgusted.
"Of all people… why you?" Itsumi muttered with venom in his voice.
Being X smiled, almost amused. "That's an unpleasant greeting, Itsumi. I thought you'd be glad to see the one who gave you this new life."
Itsumi scoffed, turning away. "You're seriously asking me that? After everything?"
The god tilted his head. "You seem upset."
"Oh, I'm offended," Itsumi snapped bitterly. "And frankly, I think you know why."
Being X crossed his arms. "Is it because I placed you in a world of war? You're clearly capable. You've survived this long. You're strong."
Itsumi shook his head slowly, his voice cold. "No. That's not it. It's not the war. It's not the death. It's what you gave me first."
He turned around to face the entity now, his gaze piercing.
"You gave me a family. A mother. A sister. People who actually loved me. And then you ripped it all away. Just like that. You dangled warmth in front of me like some sick joke, only to throw me into a blood-soaked hell. I came from pain. You knew that. So why… why did you think this was mercy?"
Being X's face remained unreadable. "And yet… you endure. You kill. You protect. You're fulfilling your role perfectly."
"Don't you dare," Itsumi growled. "I don't kill for fun. I don't even know why I'm still alive. Maybe it's instinct. Maybe it's spite. But I never asked for this. I never wanted this. I just want it to end. I want to go home. I want to stop."
There was silence between them. Then, Being X finally spoke again. "You still have a duty. You were brought here to act as Tanya's rival. A balance. A challenge. She—"
"I don't care," Itsumi interrupted sharply.
Being X blinked.
"I don't care about her. Tanya, Degurechaff, whoever she was before—I don't care," Itsumi muttered. "You talk about destiny, about some divine balance or test. But to me? She's just another person trapped in your stupid game. I'm not here to play chess with your chosen little devil. I'm not here to prove anything."
There was bitterness, but there was pain beneath it. A hollow kind of sadness that even the divine could not ignore.
"I used to believe in God," Itsumi said, his voice distant now. "Back in my old world. Catholic. I prayed, you know. I asked for help. For love. For peace. And even when I didn't get it, I still believed there was some kindness in the heavens. But now…"
He looked up into the void above him.
"Now I'm not so sure anymore. Because if you're God… then maybe God never loved us in the first place."
Being X's expression faltered, just slightly.
"You're not kind," Itsumi said. "You're not just. You're not even angry. You're just… playing. You set your pieces on the board and sit back and watch them kill each other. And that makes you no different from the monsters down here."
For a moment, the light in the dream dimmed. Being X stood silent.
"You want me to be something," Itsumi muttered. "A villain. A martyr. A hero. But I'm none of those. I'm just a broken kid who doesn't want to be part of your story anymore."