INT. ABANDONED TRAINING HALL – NIGHT STILLNESS CONTINUES]

  The door creaks shut behind Rizra. Her footsteps echo briefly in the distance… then silence.

  Sei remains still.

  His masked face turns slightly toward where she exited, then downward—lost in thought.

  Then he speaks—not loudly, not harshly—but with a weight that crushes the air:

  Sei (low, solemn):

  “You say you want to protect this version of him. But Rizra…”

  He takes a step forward, gazing at the spot where she had stood.

  Sei:

  “Don’t be selfish.”

  Sei (raising his voice slightly):

  “You, Daka, Sockoo—you all cling to this cheerful, confused version of Nata like it’s your lifeline. Like if he remembers, you’ll lose him forever.”

  Sei (with firm conviction):

  “But this isn’t about your fear. It’s about his fate.”

  He closes his eyes. The memory of blood. The echo of a boy with dead eyes.

  Sei (calm but heavy):

  “I’m not saying you need to let him become the monster again. I’m saying… you need to be ready if he remembers. Because when that day comes…”

  Sei:

  “…you will have two paths.”

  He opens his eyes, a sharp light gleaming within.

  Sei (pointing upward with two fingers):

  “One — you fight like hell to preserve this version of him. Hold him, guide him, keep him here even when the memories burn. But that’s a path of pain, Rizra. You’ll bleed to keep him whole.”

  Sei (pointing downward):

  “Two — you let the old him awaken. The one forged in blood and silence. The one who knew what fear was because he caused it. The one who didn’t just survive… he erased.”

  Sei (sharp):

  “If that path wins… there won’t be a ‘Hajime’ left. Only ‘Nata.’ And Nata doesn’t need friends. He doesn’t trust them.”

  He takes one last step forward. Now standing where Rizra had stood moments before. His voice drops low and calm—almost soft.

  Sei:

  “So don’t be selfish. Prepare. Choose wisely.”

  Sei:

  “Because you and Daka… you two have the most power over him now. More than even he realizes.”

  Sei (final):

  “The day his memories return… you won’t just be bystanders. You’ll be the line between salvation… and destruction.”

  The wind howls faintly outside the shattered window.

  Sei turns slowly, walking toward the shadows again.

  The hall goes quiet once more.

  INT. MUSIC CLUB REST ROOM – LATE NIGHT]

  The moonlight slips through the slightly open window, casting a pale blue glow across the room. Everyone is asleep—Hajime’s body gently rising and falling under the sheets, Sockoo curled like a cat in a chair, Makoto drooling on his pillow, Emily and Angel snuggled up back to back, even Rei snoring with one eye half open.

  But one person isn’t resting.

  Daka Rock sits in a chair near the corner, legs crossed, his eyes calm but alert. He’s slowly polishing his golden spear, its intricate designs glinting in the moonlight. The spear emits faint pulses—alive with silent wind magic, attuned to its master’s thoughts.

  Rizra walks in quietly, not expecting anyone awake. She pauses in the doorway, surprised, then offers a soft smile.

  Rizra (quietly):

  “Figured you’d be asleep.”

  Daka doesn’t look up.

  Daka (calmly):

  “Didn’t feel like sleeping.”

  A pause. Rizra steps further in, her footsteps soft.

  Rizra:

  “You knew I left?”

  Daka (nods):

  “Of course. I always know when your presence leaves the room.”

  (He says this without teasing, as if it’s just truth.)

  Rizra sits across from him, her arms loosely crossed over her knees. There’s something weighing on her.

  Daka (without looking):

  “You saw him, didn’t you?”

  Rizra (quiet):

  “…Yeah. Sei.”

  Daka continues to polish his spear in silence, waiting for her to continue.

  Rizra:

  “He… said things I wasn’t ready for.”

  Daka:

  “About Hajime?”

  Rizra (nods):

  “About Nata. About what he used to be.”

  Daka:

  “A monster.”

  Rizra’s eyes narrow.

  Rizra:

  “Don’t say that.”

  Daka finally pauses. Sets the spear down. Looks at her—serious, but not cold.

  Daka:

  “I don’t mean it as an insult. I mean it as a truth he had to carry.”

  (beat)

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “You know how deep he was in it, Rizra. Deeper than we ever were.”

  Rizra looks down.

  Rizra (soft):

  “I just… I don’t want to lose him. This version. This real version.”

  Daka:

  “What if this version is a lie?”

  Rizra (firm):

  “It’s not. It’s the one he chose to become.”

  Daka leans back, looking at the ceiling for a moment.

  Daka:

  “Sei’s not wrong. When the memories come back, everything could change. We’re not just fighting in this tournament—we’re fighting time. We’re fighting his past.”

  Rizra:

  “Then we stand by him. Through it.”

  Daka (nods):

  “Always.”

  There’s a long pause. The room is quiet again except for the faint hum of the magic in Daka’s spear.

  Rizra (gently):

  “Do you ever wonder what he’ll see when he remembers? What he’ll think of us?”

  Daka smiles faintly.

  Daka:

  “I hope he thinks… we were worth saving.”

  Rizra lets that hang in the air. Then smiles, just a bit.

  Rizra:

  “You’re too poetic for a wind mage.”

  Daka (grinning):

  “And you’re too emotional for a walking brick.”

  They both chuckle—quietly, softly—like they’re trying not to wake the others. A moment of peace between two who’ve carried too much, for too long.

  Rizra (soft):

  “…Thanks for staying up.”

  Daka:

  “Someone had to keep watch. For him.”INT. MUSIC CLUB REST ROOM – CONTINUOUS NIGHT]

  Just as Daka and Rizra fall into quiet peace, a small, incoherent sound breaks the silence.

  Hajime (mumbling):

  “Mmm… no… not the chocolate chip… I said… snickerdoodle… rage on…”

  Daka and Rizra glance over toward Hajime, who’s shifting slightly under his blanket, eyebrows furrowed like he’s in the middle of a deep and very important dream.

  Hajime (half-smiling in sleep):

  “Daka… stop… feeding me broccoli… I want cookies… cookies for breakfast… cookies… rage on desu…”

  Rizra bites her lip, trying not to laugh. Daka just shakes his head.

  Daka (dryly):

  “Even in dreams, he’s useless in the morning.”

  Rizra (giggling softly):

  “He’s like a child sometimes.”

  Hajime suddenly flails a little, smacking his own face lightly with his hand.

  Hajime (suddenly):

  “RIZRA ATE THE LAST ONE—TRAITOR!”

  Daka nearly chokes holding back laughter, and Rizra immediately holds her hands up.

  Rizra (quietly to Daka):

  “Okay, I swear that wasn’t me this time!”

  Daka (grinning):

  “Guilty conscious?”

  Hajime then turns over and cuddles his pillow tightly, a serene look washing over his battered but healing face.

  Hajime (mumbling):

  “Sockoo… cookie fairy… you came…”

  Rizra snorts into her sleeve. Daka finally sets his spear aside and leans back.

  Daka (soft):

  “He’s healing. That’s what matters.”

  Rizra (nods):

  “Yeah. Let him dream… just not about me eating his cookies.”

  INT. DAKA’S ROOM – DEEP NIGHT]

  The room is dark. Moonlight barely spills through the cracked blinds. Everyone else is asleep.

  Daka, resting with his golden spear near him, twists and turns in his sleep—a nightmare unraveling in vivid flashes.

  ?

  [FLASHBACK – YEARS AGO – DAKA, NATA, AND IVY – MIDDLE SCHOOL AGE]

  A shadowed forest, lit with eerie blue light.

  Three kids—young Daka, Ivy, and Nata—stand ready. Their mission: eliminate a dangerous monster threatening nearby villages.

  Nata (young, calm):

  “I’ll go first.”

  He flings a shuriken—clean, precise, fast. But the creature doesn’t even flinch.

  Ivy (stern):

  “Its body is layered in spiritual resistance.”

  She floats upward, hair and eyes glowing purple as her gravity magic surges.

  Ivy:

  “Gravitation Seal: Weight of Heavens.”

  The monster crashes to the ground, pinned under invisible pressure.

  Daka (nervous, clutching his hand):

  “I… I can do this… just one sword…”

  With all his energy, Daka summons a golden blade. It’s smaller than usual, glowing faintly. He stabs it forward—but the monster shatters it with a roar and charges.

  Everything becomes chaos.

  Daka and Ivy are thrown back. Ivy is hit hard—she bleeds from the mouth.

  Suddenly—

  Nata (screaming):

  “I’LL END THIS!”

  He dashes forward. Eyes glowing faintly with early signs of that “Devil” presence. He leaps—drives his knife deep into the monster’s chest.

  The beast crumbles.

  Silence.

  Then—

  A small choked gasp.

  Blood splatters on Daka’s face.

  He turns.

  Daka (horrified):

  “…Ivy?”

  Nata stands frozen—his blade had also pierced her gut in the chaos of the kill.

  Ivy (weakly, whispering):

  “Don’t… blame him… please…”

  Daka drops to his knees, catching her body as she slumps forward.

  Daka (crying):

  “No, no, no… Ivy—! Please—I can still heal—I can still fix this—!”

  Nata (blank, shaking):

  “I… I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…”

  He’s pale. Not even blinking. The knife clatters to the ground.

  Daka looks up at him through tears. Then, instead of rage—he throws his arms around him.

  Daka (voice trembling):

  “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. You were trying to save us… I don’t blame you. I never will.”

  Nata doesn’t even return the hug. He just stares forward, as if his soul has left.

  ?

  [BACK TO PRESENT – INT. DAKA’S ROOM]

  Daka (gasping):

  “Ivy—!”

  He sits up fast, sweat covering his face. Breathing heavy.

  The spear by his side is glowing faintly.

  He wipes his face.

  Looks down at his trembling hands.

  Daka (softly):

  “Why now…? Why that memory…?”

  Outside, the moonlight is quiet. The rest of the team sleeps peacefully.

  But inside Daka’s heart, a scar reopens.

  Daka (thinking):

  “Nata… no, Hajime… how do you carry that weight like it’s nothing?”

  He looks over toward the hall Hajime sleeps in, and his fists clench.

  Daka (soft, pained smile):

  “Guess it’s my turn to carry some of it, too.”INT. MUSIC CLUB BASE –

  EARLY MORNING – KITCHEN]

  Sunlight streams gently through the cracked windows. The air smells like freshly toasted bread, sizzling eggs, and the hint of cinnamon.

  Hajime, still a little drowsy-eyed but alert, stands at the stove flipping pancakes with expert speed. He’s wearing a ridiculously cute apron that says “Rage On ’til Breakfast.”

  Behind him, Daka stands near the counter, arms crossed, clearly tired—clearly thinking about something.

  Hajime (cheerfully):

  “Mornin’, sleepyhead. Breakfast is thirty percent complete. Do you want your eggs furious or mildly annoyed?”

  Daka (groggy, fake smirk):

  “You’re up this early? Has hell frozen over or did someone cast a resurrection spell on you?”

  Hajime shrugs, tapping the spatula like a wand.

  Hajime:

  “Maybe both. I had a dream that Sockoo was a giant cookie and tried to eat me, so I woke up hungry.”

  Daka gives a small chuckle, but it’s strained. He leans on the counter quietly.

  Hajime (glancing back):

  “You okay? You’ve got that look.”

  Daka (lying smoothly):

  “Just a weird dream. Nothing serious.”

  Hajime (lightly teasing):

  “Did a giant cookie chase you too?”

  Daka (quietly):

  “…Not exactly.”

  There’s a pause. Hajime glances at Daka again, eyebrows scrunching slightly, like he senses something deeper—but doesn’t press. Not yet.

  Hajime (softly):

  “Alright. But I’m here. You know that, right?”

  Daka (looking down, nodding faintly):

  “Yeah. I know.”

  Just then, the kitchen door slams open.

  Sockoo, Bondo, and Amy come in, drawn by the smell of food like moths to fire.

  Sockoo (sniffing):

  “Wait—is that real food? Hajime, you didn’t microwave leftovers again, right?!”

  Hajime (mock-offended):

  “Excuse me. These are certified rage-powered pancakes. Respect the process.”

  Bondo (yawning):

  “If it’s edible, I’m in.”

  Amy sits first, her eyes wide as she takes a bite of the pancake Hajime hands her.

  Amy (mouth full):

  “Oh my gosh—this is amazing! Hajime, what’s your secret?!”

  Hajime turns dramatically toward the kitchen light, one hand raised like a chef summoning divine flavor.

  Hajime:

  “The secret… is to cook with the raging will.”

  Sockoo (deadpan):

  “What does that even mean?”

  Daka (grumbling, sipping tea):

  “It means Hajime has a one-track brain that somehow makes good food.”

  Amy (laughing):

  “Well, tell your one-track brain it’s a genius.”

  The group settles in, eating, laughing, enjoying the morning peace. Daka stays quiet, smiling slightly, but his mind is still somewhere else—on that dream, on Ivy, on Nata.

  He watches Hajime.

  Daka (inner thoughts):

  Maybe… Maybe I don’t have to say it yet. Not until he remembers. Let him smile like this a little longer.

  The kitchen feels like a small, warm world where nothing bad can reach.

  For now.

  [INT. MUSIC CLUB BASE – STRATEGY ROOM – LATER THAT DAY]

  Everyone from the team is gathered around a large, scratched-up table, holographic projections floating above it. Sockoo, with bandages still on her arms and a fiery gleam in her cat-like eyes, paces with purpose.

  Daka and Emily sit cross-armed on the left. Hajime has his face half in a pancake while lying sideways in a chair, still healing. Rei is asleep in the corner. Amy and Bondo are whispering. Rizra, Yu, and Makoto sit in front, more attentive.

  Sockoo slams a folder down.

  Sockoo (serious):

  “Alright, next battle’s confirmed. And this one won’t be like the last. They’re aggressive, coordinated, and—worst of all—unpredictable.”

  The team leans in. Even Hajime blinks an eye open.

  Sockoo:

  “So, I’ve picked our four. Me… Yu… Rizra… and Makoto.”

  Makoto’s eyes widen.

  Yu just nods calmly.

  Rizra stretches her arm without a word.

  Emily:

  “You sure about this, Sockoo? You’re still healing.”

  Sockoo (firm):

  “I don’t care. I can still fight. I won’t sit back again. I’m not going to be a cheerleader.”

  Bondo (softly):

  “And Makoto?”

  Makoto (a little nervous, but determined):

  “I’ll do my best. I won’t let anyone down.”

  Sockoo moves closer to the projection, showing a layout of the next arena—a jagged battlefield filled with cliffs, shadows, and glowing platforms.

  Sockoo:

  “Makoto, your precision shots will be key. Yu—your Infinity magic will suppress their long-range fighters. Rizra, you’re the powerhouse. I need you to buy us space and break their frontline. I’ll be the one keeping us together.”

  Yu (calmly):

  “Sounds like a plan. I can make it work.”

  Rizra (smirking):

  “Just point me at something to smash.”

  Sockoo glares at the rest of the room.

  Sockoo:

  “Everyone else, stay sharp. You’ll be backup if things go bad. No more close calls like last time.”

  Daka (nodding):

  “Got it.”

  Hajime (still horizontal):

  “Raging… support… desu…”

  Emily (sighs):

  “Please don’t fall asleep here again.”

  Sockoo returns to her team and looks each one in the eyes.

  Sockoo:

  “This time… we win clean. No last stands. No breakdowns. No one gets left behind.”

  She puts her hand in the center of the table.

  Sockoo:

  “Together?”

  Yu puts his hand in.

  Rizra grunts but follows.

  Makoto hesitates—then firmly sets his hand on top.

  They look to each other.

  All Four (in unison):

  “Let’s end this.”

  [INT. MUSIC CLUB BASE – HAJIME’S ROOM – SAME DAY, A BIT LATER]

  The room is dim. Hajime lies in bed, a blanket tossed over him like a defeated cape. His usual energy is nowhere to be found. His new battle boots sit neatly by the door—untouched. His sword, Storyshift, rests in her sheath beside him, quiet.

  A tray of half-eaten breakfast sits on the nearby desk. Hajime’s eyes are dull, his arm still slightly bandaged, though healing rapidly thanks to his semi-immortality. But it’s not his body that’s tired—it’s everything else.

  Hajime (muttering, to himself):

  “Everyone’s training. Everyone’s getting stronger. And I’m just… laying here. Resting. Recovering. Like some useless NPC.”

  He turns, clutching his blanket tighter.

  Hajime (quietly):

  “I fought Jessica. I lost my arm. I bled more than ever. And I still came out standing. What more do I need to prove?”

  Storyshift hums faintly from the corner—still in sword form.

  Storyshift (softly):

  “Young master… sulking doesn’t suit you.”

  Hajime (half-hearted):

  “Not sulking. Just… raging on the inside.”

  Storyshift:

  “So rage on with your heart. Not just your fists.”

  Hajime (sits up slowly):

  “I feel like I’m in a cage. Like… everyone’s out there living while I’m stuck here on pause. And they’re not wrong—I need to recover. But still… I’m supposed to be the ace.”

  There’s a pause. His fingers twitch.

  Hajime (whispering):

  “If I can’t protect anyone when it matters, what’s the point of this power?”

  There’s a knock.

  Sockoo (from outside the door):

  “Hajime. You okay?”

  He doesn’t respond right away. Then—

  Hajime:

  “…Yeah.”

  The door opens gently. Sockoo steps inside. She sees his slumped posture, the sadness in his usually fiery eyes.

  She sighs and sits at the edge of his bed.

  Sockoo (quietly):

  “You’re not just our ace when you fight, Hajime.”

  Hajime (bitter):

  “Feels like I’m nothing when I don’t.”

  Sockoo leans down, presses her forehead against his.

  Sockoo (firm but gentle):

  “You’re not nothing. You’re my boyfriend, our idiot leader, and the one who gives us courage just by being here. You don’t have to bleed every match to matter.”

  Hajime exhales, shaky, trying not to tear up.

  Hajime:

  “I just hate feeling weak.”

  Sockoo (smiling faintly):

  “Then let that hate become strength. Rest for now… so when you do fight again, you’re at your best.”

  Hajime (looking at her):

  “…Sockoo?”

  Sockoo:

  “Yeah?”

  Hajime:

  “Thanks. I… I love you.”

  She softens, kisses his forehead.

  Sockoo:

  “I know. So recover fast, idiot. Or I’ll start fighting in your clothes next time.”

  Hajime stares.

  Hajime:

  “Okay… now I’m definitely getting out of bed tomorrow.