Chapter 4;⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Shattered Real!ty — Dust! 『 4 』

I stood there, breathing steadily. The bright lights warmed my skin, but they didn’t feel suffocating, not tonight. My hands trembled slightly, but it wasn’t fear. It wasn’t nerves. It was... excitement.

The stage wasn’t vast, the crowd wasn’t massive, but their energy buzzed in the air. It was a silent roar, full of expectations, a storm waiting for me to give it direction. I could feel their eyes on me, their breaths held, waiting for the performance that had been carefully rehearsed and choreographed to perfection.

But something about it—about all of it—felt too small. Too scripted. Too lifeless.

The cute little smile I’d practiced a thousand times stretched across my face. Perfect, innocent, inoffensive. But in my head, I could feel the storm. My thoughts raced, clashing, loud and unruly.

“If I wanted to, I could just sing what they gave me,” I thought, the sweetness of my rehearsed expression clashing with the wild, untamed current of my mind.

But don’t you think that would be too boring?

The corners of my mouth twitched as if the truth was trying to break free. I managed to restrain it, to hold back the wicked grin that tugged at the edges of my face. Instead, I took a deep breath, grabbed the mic in front of me, and stepped forward.

"I will do what I want," I whispered softly into the mic, low enough that only I could hear it.

The opening chords began to play—soft, fragile notes that hung in the air like glass ornaments, fragile enough to shatter if handled too roughly. The scripted lyrics, the carefully arranged melody, the safety of what they expected me to deliver... I let it all dissolve into the void.

I closed my eyes.

The world disappeared, leaving me alone in the quiet abyss of my mind.

Then I began to sing.

“Love… lies… flowers…

Solitude and loneliness…

I thought these changing emotions..

Were just a part of a lie..

But they linger, pulling me deeper,

Breaking through the walls of my heart..”

My voice wasn’t polished. It wasn’t the perfect pitch the instructors had beaten into me. It was raw, uneven, full of cracks and edges I couldn’t smooth out. But it was mine. It was real.

“Raging shadows in the light,

Ghosts hiding in the darkness…

They whisper softly—

Is this what it feels like to live?”

There was something i have always wanted to say but never could.

“Eye for an eye,tooth for a tooth,

Dust returns to dust.

The spinning world goes on and on,

But the black hole in my chest…

It grows… it takes…

My empty heart left alone.

Under the starry skies,

I find a moment’s peace,

Though time shows no mercy.”

These words i couldn't say them directly but this might be the most ideal way.

And I couldn’t stop. Not now.

“ "It’s okay," "I’m fine,"

"Thanks," "Sorry,"

"You can do it," "I love you."

I hide behind my feelings,

Pretending those words don’t matter.

But deep inside, I wait for them…

Words that never come.”

The music swelled, and my voice cracked under the weight of the emotions surging through me. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t what I’d rehearsed.

But it was me.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t hiding.

“The sky won’t wait for me.

The night feels endless.

Will I hold on this time,

Or fall into despair again?”

I was finally alive.

“Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth,

Dust returns to dust.

The spinning world goes on and on,

But the black hole in my chest…

It grows… it takes…

My empty heart left alone.

Under the starry skies,

I find a moment’s peace,

Though time shows no mercy.”

Thus, as the melody ends so dose my cries for help.

“Love… lies… flowers…

Solitude and loneliness…

The sky won’t wait for me.

And maybe…

This time, I’ll give up.”

When the last note faded into silence, I opened my eyes fully.

The crowd was still there. No one moved. For a moment, I wondered if they even remembered how to breathe.

And then someone started clapping.

Just one person, their hands echoing through the silent theater like gunshots.

Then another joined. And another. Until the entire crowd erupted into thunderous applause.

I stood there, the mic still clutched in my hand, staring out at them.

I should’ve been happy, should’ve been elated by their response.

But all I could feel was the ache in my chest, the black hole that still sat there, consuming everything in its path.

The corners of my mouth curved upward into a soft, practiced smile.

And I whispered, just loud enough for only myself to hear:

“...Was this enough?”

As I walked down the stage, everything felt… muted. The applause, the roaring of the crowd, the claps that had resonated so deeply moments before—it all seemed to blur into the background. The lights dimmed behind me, leaving a fading warmth on my back as I stepped into the shadowed backstage.

There were people there. My “team,” as they called themselves. Their faces were smiling, but their eyes… oh, their eyes. I caught it instantly. They weren’t congratulating me. Not truly. Those weren’t looks of admiration. They were looks of resentment, jealousy bubbling just beneath their polite expressions.

"Great job, Natsumi!" one of them said, her voice dripping with faux sweetness.

"You're just… incredible out there," another added, but I could see how her fingers tightened on the clipboard she was holding, like she was imagining breaking it in half.

It was suffocating. I nodded, gave them my polished smile, said something polite and meaningless like, "Thank you, I couldn’t have done it without all of you," and slipped away before the venom in their gazes could pierce my skin.

I see now. So that’s how it is. They hate me. Not for who I am but for what I represent. A puppet that’s dancing better than it’s supposed to. A doll they can’t control anymore.

Then you guys can go to hell.

As I moved through the halls, avoiding the staff, avoiding anyone who might try to talk to me, I caught sight of a familiar figure in the crowd. Atsisaya. Her cyan hair shimmered under the harsh fluorescent lights, a beacon in the sea of unfamiliar faces.

For a moment, I thought about going to her, about saying something. But then that thought dissolved like sugar in water. No. Let’s be ignorant. Let’s ignore her. Ignorance is easier, isn’t it?

With that, I turned and walked away, leaving her behind without so much as a glance.

But as I exited the building, I felt it—a tug on my sleeve.

I froze.

I didn’t turn around immediately. My body stiffened, and the air around me felt wrong, like the wind had stopped just to watch this moment unfold. Slowly, reluctantly, I turned my head.

And I saw her.

Atsisaya’s body lay crumpled on the ground, her flesh torn open, organs spilling out like some grotesque bouquet. Blood seeped into the concrete, pooling around her, and in her stomach, a knife protruded, its handle gleaming under the pale streetlights.

“Huh!?”

I blinked.

And she was gone.

I stood there, trembling, my breath catching in my throat. My heart pounded against my ribs like it was trying to escape. What… what the hell was that?

Stolen story; please report.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

"YEAH. I’M PROBABLY HALLUCINATING BECAUSE I’M SO SLEEP-DEPRIVED THAT I’LL START SEEING THINGS LIKE THIS. YEAH, THAT’S IT," I muttered to myself, my voice shaky, my words tumbling out too fast.

When I opened my eyes again, everything seemed normal. The streetlights flickered faintly in the distance, and the soft hum of the city returned to my ears.

I turned to leave, but before I could take another step, I felt it again—a presence behind me.

I counted in my head, trying to steady my breathing. One… two… three… four…

When I hit ten, my sleeve was grabbed again.

This time, I turned sharply, and there she was.

Atsisaya.

She was panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly as if she’d been chasing me. Her hand clutched my sleeve tightly, knuckles white, her eyes wide and filled with something I couldn’t quite place.

I yanked my arm away. "What do you want?" I asked coldly, my voice flat, detached.

"Wait," she called after me, desperation lacing her tone.

I stopped but didn’t turn around. "What?"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"I just… I don’t get you!" she shouted, her voice breaking slightly.

"Is that so?" I replied, still not looking at her.

"Why did you have to do this?"

"Do what?"

"Don’t act like you don’t know!"

"I don’t know," I said, turning to face her now, my eyes narrowing.

"You know it. You know everything, but you pretend you don’t. Just stop deceiving yourself!"

"Is that all you have to say to me, Atsisaya-san?" I asked, emphasizing the honorific deliberately.

She flinched.

"You… you’ve changed," she said softly, her voice trembling.

"Did I?"

"Yes. You did."

"How?"

"The Natsumi I knew would never stop for me," she said, her voice rising again, her emotions spilling out like a dam had burst. "The Natsumi I knew would never call me Atsisaya-san. He would call me Atsisaya-chan. He would laugh with me, tease me, argue with me."

"....."

"And the Natsumi I knew… he would never sing in front of a crowd. He would never even dream of becoming an idol."

I stared at her, my expression unreadable. "Atsisaya," I began, my voice quiet but firm, "things have changed. The world has changed. And I had to change with it. If I don’t… I’ll get left behind."

"Is being left behind what you fear?" she asked, her voice breaking again, tears streaming down her face now. "If you’re left behind, then I’ll come to you. If you’re dead, then I’m dead. If you go, I go. Don’t you understand that?"

"That’s just not right," I said, my voice colder now.

She looked at me, her tears falling freely, her entire body trembling. "I love you, Natsumi. Don’t you know that?"

"I don't," I said simply.

Her face crumpled as a sob escaped her lips. I turned away.

I walked away.

Her cries faded into the distance as I kept walking, my footsteps echoing in the silence.

Eventually, I found myself standing on a bridge, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson.

I leaned on the railing, staring down at the water below. The reflection of the sunset rippled on the surface, distorting, breaking apart, just like everything else in my life.

I thought about Atsisaya’s words, about her tears, about the look in her eyes when she said she loved me.

It hurt.

Why did it hurt?

Loving someone hurts. Hating someone hurts. Getting attached to someone hurts.

I don’t like getting hurt....

It had been months. How many, exactly, I couldn’t say. Time had stopped behaving the way it should. Days folded into nights, nights unraveled into weeks, and somewhere along the line, everything began to distort.

It started subtly, like the way you might overlook a crack in a mirror. The sun was the first to change. One morning, I stepped outside and glanced up, and instead of the familiar, blazing orb, I saw something black—a swirling void in the sky. The light still shone, but it felt colder, wrong, like it didn’t belong. The shadows it cast twisted unnaturally, bending and writhing as though alive.

I tried to tell myself it was my imagination. Maybe I was just tired. But the next day, the sky turned pink. Not the soft pastel pink of sunrise, but an aggressive, violent hue that made my skin crawl. Clouds shaped like jagged teeth drifted across the horizon, grinning down at me.

I didn’t say anything. Who would I even tell? "Hey, does the sun look like a black hole to you? No? Just me? Cool."

The world started feeling... off. People began to seem less like people and more like shadows. Their faces blurred, their features smudged like a child’s careless drawing. When they spoke, their words sounded muffled, distant, like they were underwater. Their eyes, though—oh, their eyes were sharp, cutting. Every time someone looked at me, I felt it. The weight of their stares pressed into my skin, heavy and cruel, like they were dissecting me, tearing me apart with nothing but their gaze.

It wasn’t just their eyes. Their movements, their gestures, the way they talked to each other—it all felt fake, like actors performing in a play they didn’t want to be in. And when they looked at me, it wasn’t with admiration or even indifference. It was hatred. Pure, unfiltered animosity, as if I’d done something unforgivable just by existing.

I tried to shake it off, to act normal, but it got worse.

The food turned next. One day at lunch, I unwrapped a sandwich from the cafeteria. The bread was soft, the filling neatly packed, but as I lifted it to my mouth, the smell hit me. Rot. Decay. My stomach churned, but I forced myself to take a bite.

My teeth sank into something wet, slippery. The taste of copper filled my mouth, and when I looked down, I saw a bloody mess—raw flesh, sinew, bone. My stomach lurched, and I threw the sandwich away.

That night, when I looked in the mirror, I saw blood dripping from my mouth. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. I scrubbed my face, hard enough to make my skin burn, but the red stains wouldn’t go away.

I stopped eating after that. The thought of food made me gag.

The performances continued, though. Another show, another crowd. I stood on the stage, lights burning into my eyes, and looked out into the audience.

They were so far away.

Not physically—no, they were right there, rows and rows of faceless figures packed together. But they felt distant, unreachable, like they existed in a different world, a different reality. Their claps were hollow, their cheers empty. Even when they smiled, it wasn’t for me. It was for the mask I wore, the perfect image they wanted to see.

I sang, I danced, I performed. I did everything I was supposed to, but it didn’t matter. They didn’t see me. They never did.

After the show, I walked backstage. The other performers were there, my so-called friends. They congratulated me, their voices flat, their smiles sharp-edged. I nodded, murmured thanks, but their words slid off me like water.

They weren’t real. None of this was real.

I started seeing him around this time. My "friend."

The first time, I was on the train. The city sped by outside the window, blurring into a smear of color. I was staring blankly, lost in thought, when I felt someone sit beside me.

"Rough day?"

I turned, and there he was. A boy about my age or so.

"Who are you?" I asked.

He grinned. "A friend."

“....”

I didn’t believe him, but I didn’t argue. It was easier not to.

He started showing up everywhere—on the train, at school, in my room late at night. Sometimes we talked. Sometimes we didn’t. But he was always there, watching me with that knowing smile.

"You’re slipping, you know," he said once, leaning against my desk as I tried to study.

"Slipping?" I echoed.

"Into the cracks," he replied, his voice almost playful. "The space between reality and… whatever this is."

“Oh. Come on stop spouting random bullshit. "

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. "Do you even know what’s real anymore!?"

He ignored me!

"Of course I do," I snapped.

"Do you?" he asked again, softer this time.

“Yep~”

I said without a care in the world.

The black sun loomed larger every day, its edges flickering like fire. The pink sky bled into shades of red and orange, as if the world itself was burning.

People became monsters. Their faces twisted, their bodies contorted, their hands clawed and reaching. They whispered when I walked by, their voices slithering into my ears like worms.

Sometimes, I’d look down and see blood pooling at my feet, dripping from wounds that weren’t there. My chest felt heavy, like something was clawing its way out, but when I touched my skin, it was smooth, unbroken.

"Maybe you’re the monster," my friend said one night as we sat on the floor of my room.

"Shut up," I muttered, pulling my knees to my chest.

He laughed. "What are you so afraid of, Natsumi?"

"I’m not afraid," I lied.

He leaned closer, his voice a whisper. "Then why are you shaking?"

I didn’t have an answer.

The final performance came, though I barely remember it. The lights were too bright, the crowd too loud. My voice cracked on the final note, and for a moment, I thought I saw the black sun hanging over the stage, its shadow swallowing everything.

When it was over, no one clapped.

I stood there, staring at the faceless figures before me, and all I could think was, They’re so far away.

The world felt like a dream.

I sat in my room that night, staring at the ceiling. My friend was there, sitting cross-legged on my bed.

"You can’t keep going like this," he said.

"I know," I replied.

"So what are you going to do?"

I didn’t have an answer.

He smiled, leaning back. "Guess we’ll see."

The sun rose again the next morning.

As the morning light slipped through the window, spilling across my desk and bed, I found myself staring at the ceiling. Friend sat cross-legged on my desk, chewing on a piece of gum(?).

“Today’s your last day of school before summer vacation starts, right?” he asked, tilting his head and smirking like he always did when he had something stupid to say.

“Yeah,” I replied, already regretting what she’d say next.

“Great… Fufu. Once summer vacation starts, we’ll commit war crimes.”

“No!”

“What do you mean no?”

“And what do you expect me to say to that?”

“I thought you’d say, Hell yeah!”

“Shut up!”

“Meanie.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I sighed and started putting on my school uniform, trying to ignore he incessant chatter.

“Hey,” she said after a moment.

“What?”

“Your name for me is boring. Change it.”

“My name for you?”

“You call me Friend. Be creative for once in your life.”

I frowned, adjusting my tie. “Fine. How about... Tomodachi?”

He snorted, nearly doubling over in laughter. “Pft. So original.”

“I know, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up and give me a better name.”

“Okay, okay… How about… Miku?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You!”

“Mikurin,” I said with a smirk. “That’s it. Accept it or not, I don’t care.”

“Fine…” he huffed, crossing his arms.

As I continued to button my shirt, he stood beside me, watching with his piercing purple eyes. “You’re slow.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, grabbing my bag and heading for the door.

“Hey.”

I turne—

“What the hell!?”

Mikurin tilted her head, looking utterly confused. “What?”

“You… You’ve turned into a girl!”

“I’ve always been a girl.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.”

I stared at him—or should i say her for a long moment, then shrugged. “Well, it doesn’t matter either way.”

The people passing by outside gave me strange looks as I spoke to her. Obviously, they couldn’t see her. Why would they? She wasn’t real.

Mikurin trailed behind me as I walked to school, her long silver hair swaying with every step. She was my height, her uniform perfectly pressed, and those unnatural purple eyes followed my every move. Overall, she was... cute. Not that it mattered.

Today was the last day of school before summer vacation. I reached school earlier than usual, hoping to avoid the small swarm of people who usually surrounded me. It didn’t work.

Several classmates stopped me in the halls, chatting about trivial things I didn’t care about

Several classmates stopped me in the halls, chatting about trivial things I didn’t care about. Their smiles, their laughter—it all felt distant, like a muffled sound underwater.

They talked, and I responded as perfectly as I could, but the words felt like they didn’t belong to me. Like they were scripted by someone else.

Eventually, the final bell rang. The last day of school was over. Summer vacation had begun.

I slipped away from the group, ignoring their goodbyes, and headed toward the back of the school. Mikurin trailed behind, walking silently for once.

When I reached the back of the school, there she was—Atsisaya, standing by the old sakura tree with her arms crossed. Her usual confident posture was on full display, as if she was waiting for me to show up.

“What do you want?” she asked, her tone sharp but not unkind.

I felt my heart pound in my chest. Mikurin leaned against the tree, smirking. “Oh, this will be amusing,” she muttered.

I ignored her.

“Atsisaya…” I began, my voice shaky. “W-would…”

She tilted her head, her gaze steady.

I swallowed hard. Come on, say it.

“Would you be my girlfriend?” I blurted, bowing deeply.

There was silence. It stretched on, suffocating.

“No,” she said bluntly.

What? My mind went blank.

I stood frozen, staring at the ground. All the courage I had worked up crumbled instantly. So… those moments between us—those shared glances, those times she’d teased me—were they all lies?

“Wait,” she said suddenly.

I looked up. Her expression had softened, and for the first time, I saw a faint blush on her cheeks.

“Would you please be my boyfriend?” she asked, her voice trembling.

I blinked, confused.

“Mmm,” I managed to nod, my face burning red.

But I wasn’t done. Not yet.

“Atsisaya, I love you!” I shouted, bowing again. “Please be my girlfriend!”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, laughing through tears.

When I looked up, she was smiling, her face wet with tears. That smile—it was like something out of a dream, too perfect to be real.

It was beautiful.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt something warm in my chest. Something I didn’t fully understand but didn’t want to let go of.

The sun began to set, casting long shadows across the schoolyard.

Atsisaya wiped her tears and smiled at me again,and I smiled back.

----------------------------------------

FOOTNOTES:

> I frowned, adjusting my tie. “Fine. How about... Tomodachi?”

>

>  

>

> He snorted, nearly doubling over in laughter. “Pft. So original.”

Here Natsumi speaks in Katana where 友達(Tomodachi) is just written as トモダチ.

Tomodachi → friend.

Cut content:

> Wait she had black hair and blue eyes before but now she was sliver hair and purple eyes and she transformed into a girl, isn't that the plot twist of most of the animes?

Here are the vocals written in Japanese(romanji) if you want to read them:

> (Verse 1)

> Ai… uso… hana…

> Kodoku to sabishisa…

> Kawaru kimochi wa kitto

> Subete uso datta no ka.

> Demo kokoro no kabe wo kowashite

> Kono omoi wa kieru koto nai.

>

>

> (Pre-Chorus)

> Hikari no kage ga odori,

> Yami no naka no bōrei ga sasayaku…

> Kore ga iki teru tte koto?

>

>

> (Chorus)

> Me wa me wo, ha wa ha wo,

> Chiri wa chiri ni kaeru.

> Mawari tsuzukeru sekai no naka de,

> Kokoro ni umareta kuroi ana…

> Hirogari tsuzukeru dake…

> Kara no kokoro, hitori kiri.

> Hoshizora no shita de,

> Shukufuku no shunkan wo mitsukeru.

> Demo toki wa yasashiku wa nai.

>

>

> (Verse 2)

> "Daijoubu," "Heiki,"

> "Arigatou," "Gomen,"

> "Ganbatte," "Aishiteru."

> Kimochi wo kakushite

> Kore wa kikasarenai kotoba.

> Demo kokoro no oku de,

> Itsuka kikoeru koto wo negau.

>

>

> (Pre-Chorus)

> Sora wa matte kurenai.

> Yami wa owaranai.

> Kondo wa koukai suru no ka,

> Mata wa zetsubou ni ochiru no ka?

>

>

> (Chorus)

> Me wa me wo, ha wa ha wo,

> Chiri wa chiri ni kaeru.

> Mawari tsuzukeru sekai no naka de,

> Kokoro ni umareta kuroi ana…

> Hirogari tsuzukeru dake…

> Kara no kokoro, hitori kiri.

> Hoshizora no shita de,

> Shukufuku no shunkan wo mitsukeru.

> Demo toki wa yasashiku wa nai.

>

>

> (Outro)

> Ai… uso… hana…

> Kodoku to sabishisa…

> Sora wa matte kurenai.

> Tabun kono toki ni,

> Akirameru kamo shirenai.

Author's Note:

Sorry, this took longer than usual..