Toki watched closely, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his sword. The forest was quiet—too quiet. Shadows played tricks on the edge of his vision, and the cicadas' drone was like a veil draped over something more sinister. He knew what was coming. He had lived this moment before.
Suzume walked a few paces ahead of him, humming softly. Her black hair shimmered in the dappled light as she turned to smile at him. "Did I ever tell you about the spirits of this forest, Toki?" she asked, voice lilting with the same curiosity as always.
He forced a nod, feigning interest. "No. Tell me."
She clasped her hands behind her back and spun once, eyes wide with wonder. "They say if you walk beneath these trees at the right hour, you might meet someone who was lost a long time ago. Not a ghost, exactly—but an echo. A whisper left behind."
"Sounds haunting," Toki said, keeping his tone light.
"Hauntingly beautiful," she corrected, beaming. "My grandmother used to believe that every flower that bloomed here was planted by a forgotten soul. That's why I come to pick them. To remember them."
Toki thought this was a different story from the last round, he thought maybe fate had changed.
He already knew what came next. Suzume would pause near a cluster of small white flowers with delicate, feathered petals. She'd crouch down, lean in, and just before her fingers grazed the stem—
There.
A rustle in the grass. A hiss.
Toki's sword was already in his hand.
The serpent burst from the underbrush with a speed that defied nature, jaws wide and venom glistening on its fangs. But Toki was faster. With one fluid motion, he slashed downward, the blade cleaving through the snake's thick body. The creature let out a dry, almost metallic screech before its halves collapsed in the dirt, writhing and spasming.
Suzume screamed and stumbled backward, eyes wide. "Toki! What are you—?! It was just an animal!"
He grabbed her wrist gently, pulling her behind him. "It wasn't just an animal," he said. His voice was calm, but inside he was shaking. Not from fear, but from the weight of remembering her death—how she hadn't seen it coming. How he had failed to act in time. Not this loop.
Suzume frowned at him. "You didn't have to kill it like that. It was cruel."
"I'm sorry," Toki murmured. "I just didn't want you to get hurt."
She looked at him for a moment, then sighed and turned back to the flowers. "Fine. But next time, let me decide if I want to take the risk."
He said nothing. There wouldn't be a next time. Not if he could help it.
She knelt again, reaching out carefully. As her fingers brushed the petal of one bloom, she gasped.
"Ah!"
Toki spun. "What?"
Suzume held her hand, eyes wide. A small red mark bloomed on the skin near her thumb.
"Just a spider," she said, laughing nervously. "It startled me. Must've been hiding in the petals."
He rushed to her side, inspecting the bite. "You sure you're okay?"
"It's nothing," she insisted. "Really. You're acting like I'm going to drop dead."
He didn't answer. The loop was diverging again. Was this how she died last time? Not from the snake? He couldn't remember. Or maybe the poison just took longer. Maybe it had always been the spider.
They continued walking. The woods thinned, the air growing warmer with the approach of evening. When they reached the edge of the forest, Suzume turned to him with the same cheerful wave as always. "Same time tomorrow?"
Toki hesitated. "Maybe. We'll see."
She tilted her head. "You're acting weird today."
"Just tired. That's all."
He watched her walk away, her silhouette swallowed by the golden haze of dusk. He wanted to believe he'd saved her this time. That the loop would finally break. But doubt clung to him like smoke.
"Toki!"
He turned. Utsuki stood beneath the old pine, her arms crossed, waiting like she always did.
Training time.
"You're late," she said.
"I know. Sorry."
They walked together to the training field, a clearing surrounded by smooth stones and lanterns filled with enchanted fireflies. Utsuki pulled her silver hair into a loose knot and threw him a wooden staff. "Mana control today.
He caught it, eyes distant. "Right."
She narrowed her eyes. "Are you even listening?"
"Yes. I'm just distracted."
They went through the forms. Utsuki moved with sharp precision, her steps echoing against the stones. Toki followed, mimicking each gesture, but his mind was far away.
"Toki," she said, voice softer now, "what's going on?"
"Nothing. I'm fine."
"You're not. You keep making the same mistakes ."
He gave her a weak smile. "Guess I'm just having a weird day."
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in strokes of amber and rose. Their training ended in silence. Utsuki didn't press further, but her gaze lingered on him.
Dinner came. They sat in the common room. Suzume laughed at a joke Toki barely heard. She looked so full of life—exactly like before.
He watched her closely. Was her breathing shallow? Were her eyes dimmer than usual? Or was it all in his head?
"Toki," she said suddenly, "why are you staring at me like that?"
He blinked. "No reason."
"You're such a weirdo sometimes," she said, giggling.
He forced a smile.
Night fell. Toki lay in his bed, eyes open, staring at the wooden beams above. The room was too quiet. The forest outside too still. His mind replayed everything. The snake. The spider. Suzume's laughter.
He had changed the future. He had to believe that.
Still, sleep came slowly. And even when it did, it brought no peace.
Toki awoke with a start.
The sound that tore through the stillness of the early morning wasn't thunder, nor wind, nor footsteps in the hallway. It was a sound he knew too well by now: the scream of grief and disbelief, raw and full of a pain that could split the world in two.
Yuki.
Her voice pierced through the wooden walls of the old inn like a blade. Toki didn't need to ask what had happened—he already knew. His feet hit the floor before his mind could even catch up, his body moving on the rails of dread and routine. The hallway was cold, the floorboards groaning under his weight, but none of that mattered. Not anymore.
When he burst into Suzume's room, time didn't slow. It simply repeated.
Just like last time, Yuki was on the floor beside the bed, clutching Suzume's limp hand against her chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Haru stood by the wall with her fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Natsu had her back to everyone, covering her mouth, trying not to retch. Aki was crying silently in the corner, her arms wrapped around herself as if they could hold her together.
The same scene. The same positions. The same expressions of loss.
"No..." Toki murmured, though he already knew this would happen. He thought he had done it. That killing the snake had been enough. That he'd saved her.
But nothing had changed.
Yuki's sobs turned into rage. Just like before, she lunged at him.
"You said you were with her!" she screamed, grabbing the front of his tunic and shaking him. "You were supposed to be with her! How did this happen ?! What did you do?!"
Toki didn't resist. He didn't even raise his hands. He just stared over Yuki's shoulder at Suzume's lifeless face. Her expression was peaceful. Too peaceful. Like the world had stolen her breath without even waking her.
Leonard and Utsuki were the ones who pulled Yuki off of him.
"Enough," Leonard said sharply, holding her back. "This isn't helping anyone."
"He let her die! Again!" Yuki cried, fighting against his grip.
Utsuki stepped between them, her voice trembling. "We need to stay calm. This isn't the time—"
"No," Toki whispered, cutting her off.
Everyone turned to him.
"I'll fix this," he said, louder now. His eyes met Yuki's, then moved to Suzume's hand, still dangling from the edge of the bed. "I swear to you, I'll fix this."
He turned sharply and grabbed the empty bottle from the writing desk. Without hesitation, he hurled it against the wall, shattering it into glittering fragments. Gasps erupted in the room, but he was already moving. He knelt, picked up a jagged shard of glass, and without a second thought, pressed it to his throat.
"Toki, no!" Utsuki shouted, stepping forward.
Yuki's voice tore through the room like a whip. "Coward!"
Blood sprayed across the floorboards in a sudden crimson arc.
Utsuki was on her knees beside him in seconds, trying to press her hands to his wound, to stop the bleeding. Her silver hair quickly turned scarlet where it brushed his neck. Her face twisted with horror and desperation.
"Toki! No, no, stay with me! Please, stay with me!"
He couldn't breathe. Or rather, he could—but each breath was sharp, metallic, wet.
His mind reached into the dark, clawing backward.
"I have to go deeper," he whispered, not even sure if the words left his lips. "Further back… it wasn't the snake… it wasn't just the snake…"
Utsuki sobbed above him, her voice faint, distorted.
"Please… don't leave…"
His hand found hers.
"Anchor ," he said, his voice a sigh lost in a sea of red.
The world cracked.
Like stained glass under pressure, reality began to fracture. Time rippled. The light dimmed. Then it all shattered.
When he opened his eyes, the smell of food and the murmur of voices greeted him. Evening sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over the long dining table.
It was dinner.
Last night's dinner.
He blinked rapidly, then sat up straighter. Utsuki sat beside him, poking at her food.
"Toki?" she asked, noticing his sudden stiffness. "Are you alright?"
His mind reeled.
Not again. Not here. Not now.
He forced a tired smile. "Just… tired."
Utsuki watched him for a moment longer, her gaze unreadable, then nodded slowly. "You've been… distant lately."
He didn't answer. He couldn't.
Suzume sat across from him, smiling, laughing lightly at something Leonard had said. Her hands moved animatedly as she recounted a story about some flower shop in a border town. The same story she'd told before. Toki could almost see the spider now, sitting quietly on that flower petal, waiting for its cue.
He clenched his fists under the table. It hadn't been the snake. The spider bite… the detail he had dismissed…
He had failed her.
And now he had to watch her die again.
The rest of the dinner passed in a haze. Nobody noticed his silence. Or if they did, they were too polite—or too afraid—to ask.
When everyone retired to their rooms, Toki didn't follow. Not yet.
Instead, he walked to the kitchen, his steps slow and deliberate. The hallway was dim now, lanternlight flickering against the walls. His hand hovered over the door handle.
He didn't know what he was expecting. Maybe some sign. Some hint. Something different.
He exhaled, then turned the handle and stepped inside.
The kitchen was empty, the fire in the hearth little more than a few glowing embers. Pots hung neatly on their hooks. The scent of herbs and bread still lingered faintly in the air.
He crossed the room and sat at the small table near the window.
Outside, the moon had risen.
"Why…" he whispered, leaning forward, pressing his forehead to the cool wood.
"Why wasn't it enough?"
Behind him, a voice answered.
"Because fate is never satisfied with almost."
Toki turned slowly.
Utsuki stood in the doorway, her silver hair reflecting the moonlight like threads of starlight.
She stepped into the room, closing the door gently behind her.
"I knew you'd be here," she said.
He didn't reply.
She sat across from him. "You're trying to change something, aren't you?"
His eyes snapped to hers.
"How—"
"I don't know how," she interrupted softly. "I just… feel it. You're not the same. You flinch at memories that haven't happened yet. You act like you've seen ghosts."
Toki swallowed hard. "What if I told you I was trying to save someone… again and again… and no matter what I do, they still die?"
She didn't laugh. She didn't question his sanity.
Instead, she leaned forward, and for the first time, truly looked at him.
"Then I'd say you're carrying a weight that no one should bear alone."
He closed his eyes. "It was supposed to work. I changed the moment. I stopped the snake. But she still died. A spider bite. Something I missed."
Utsuki reached across the table, resting her hand gently over his.
"Then find it. All of it. Don't just fight fate blindly—understand it. Learn it."
He opened his eyes, and for a brief moment, the weight didn't feel so impossible.
But morning would come.
And with it, another death… or a chance to break the loop.
Utsuki stepped out of the room, leaving Toki alone in the dim light, his mind swirling like a storm barely contained beneath a calm surface. The door clicked shut behind her. He didn't even look. His thoughts were racing.
"I have to plan it perfectly this time," he muttered to himself, standing still in the center of the quiet kitchen. The candlelight flickered against his pale face, making his dark circles even more prominent.
Last time, he had acted too hastily—driven by panic, drowned in emotion. The delay had cost Suzume her life. Even though he had gone back, even though he had killed the snake, it hadn't been enough. The poison had been elsewhere. Subtler. Hidden.
"I need more time," he whispered, gripping the edge of the table, his knuckles white. "I need... another day."
A sharp breath. A decision.
He reached over to the counter and pulled open a drawer. The cold handle of the kitchen knife greeted his trembling hand. He lifted it, inspecting the blade, the way moonlight shimmered along its edge. A flash of steel. A symbol of resolve.
"I have to go further. Further than before."
Without hesitation, he drove the blade into his abdomen.
Agony exploded through him. Blood bloomed instantly, warm and slick, staining his tunic in a spreading pool of crimson. His legs buckled, but he didn't fall. Not yet.
His voice rasped out: "New Anchor."
The world shattered.
Like glass falling inward, the edges of reality cracked. The floor vanished. Time twisted around him, not smoothly, but like shards grinding into one another.
Darkness.
Then light.
He opened his eyes.
His body jerked in bed, gasping for air. He reached for his abdomen—intact. His skin, untouched. He lay still for a few moments, letting his senses catch up.
Nighttime.
His room.
He had already spoken to Utsuki earlier about the Royal Selection. He remembered the conversation—the sadness in her eyes, the way she had tried to hide her worry. This was the night. The one before everything began.
He sat up, brushing a hand through his damp hair. His body felt heavy, but not from pain. From memory.
"This is it," he whispered to himself.
He slipped on his cloak and stepped into the hallway, careful not to wake anyone. The house was quiet. Not peaceful—just silent. The kind of silence that came before storms.
He made his way to the kitchen. The lantern above the counter still glowed faintly. Yuki stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, methodically washing the dishes. Her long hair was tied back, a few damp strands clinging to her cheek.
She didn't turn around when she heard him.
"Toki?" she asked, surprised. "You scared me. I thought you were asleep."
"I need to talk to you," he said, more urgently than he intended.
She turned, brows knitting at his tone. "What's going on?"
"It's about tomorrow. When I go to gather fruit in the forest. You can't let Suzume come near it. No matter what she says, don't let her follow me."
Yuki blinked, confused. "Suzume? But she's not even supposed to go with you. Why would—"
"I know she's going to want to," Toki interrupted. His voice cracked slightly, but he took a deep breath and steadied it. "She'll find a way. She always does. Please. Keep her away from the forest."
Yuki frowned. "How do you even know she'd want to come?"
"That doesn't matter. Just trust me," he said. His voice had a strange edge—desperation cloaked in authority.
She folded her arms. "Are you hiding something?"
"I'm... I can't explain it," he said. "Not yet. But I swear on my life, it's important. Just this once. Please, Yuki."
There was a long silence. Yuki studied his face, looking for a lie—or at least a crack. But all she found was the rawness in his gaze.
"Fine," she muttered. "But only because you look like you've seen a ghost."
Toki almost collapsed with relief. "Thank you. Really."
"Don't thank me yet," she said, turning back to the dishes. "If you're wrong, I'm going to beat you with a ladle."
"I'll deserve it."
He gave her a small nod and turned to leave. The hallway was darker now, heavier. When he reached his room, he didn't lie down. He walked to the desk, lit a candle, and took out a blank page.
No sleep tonight.
He began to write. Notes. Variables. Timelines. Everything he remembered—every slight deviation. He sketched diagrams of the forest trail, the patterns of conversation from every loop, the ways the assassin might have infiltrated. Even the timing of Utsuki's fire surges.
And always, Suzume. The way she smiled. The way she bent down to pick those same white flowers. The spider on the petal.
It hadn't just been the snake.
The poison had another fang.
The paper was stained with ink and sweat. His hand cramped. But he didn't stop.
Because one mistake meant death.
And this time—he would not allow her to die.