Shattered Real!ty — Dust! 『 6 』_HanaSuki

Chapter 6;⠀⠀Shattered Real!ty — Dust! 『 6 』

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[ ENTRY NO. 6 ]

「ATSISAYA」

Atsisaya was a girl who was always obsessive and strange in a weird way that seemed unusual for a girl her age. Everything was gray for her due to her parents neglecting her. She came from a rich family, but that became a reason for her to feel empty and alone most of the time.

At a young age, when she received a teddy bear as a gift from a girl—because she had lost hers in the water—she felt a myriad of colors fill her life. Everything that was gray began to overflow with color.

She began to follow that girl.

Every day, every night.

She took pictures of that girl—when she ate, played, cried, rested, slept, and even bathed. But one night, while watching her in the bath, Atsisaya noticed something strange.

That girl was a boy all along.

The realization shocked her, but she was too distracted by the sight of his fragile body to focus.

All she could think at that moment was, 「So fragile… It must be protected.」

From then on, Atsisaya followed that boy, protecting him from any harm.

He was a strange boy—always alone.

She couldn't hold herself back.

「It was the middle of June before I decided to finally face myself. And not have any regrets.

As soon as the bell rang, I ran as fast as I could. The teacher and the rest of the girls were confused, but I couldn't afford to pay attention to them.

The sky is blue. Very blue today. I guess you could say the sky is clear—no clouds, just the sun reflecting its heat on the planet and nothing more. The wind is moving west, I think. It’s pretty cool, considering it’s hot today.

Without a doubt, I can say I am nervous. However, that doesn't mean I’m not excited.

You can't imagine what it feels like to finally meet the person you’ve been idolizing for so long.

I have followed him for a long time.

I love him.

I want to tell him that.

I want to hug him.

I want to have him.

I want him to only see me. And only me.

Soon, I reached the back of the school building. Coincidentally, we studied at the same school.

Like I thought, he was here, sitting in the corner, reading a book (?) Or was it a light novel? Knowing him, it was probably a light novel. I walked closer to him.

Seeing me approach, he stood up and walked away.

I called for him to stop, but he didn't listen.

I ran after him and grabbed his hand, yelling at him to become my friend.

But he refused.

Straight up. A blunt rejection.

Somehow, I was okay. I was fine.

For only one reason.

I can't give up on him. Never.

I must protect him.

I pursued him endlessly until he finally gave in.

“Do what you want.”

Ah. How adorable.

Later, I learned that his name was Natsumi.

And I also grasped the fact that... I wasn't the insane.」

After they became friends, Atsisaya began to hang around Natsumi more, giving him almost no time alone.

She even tried to confess multiple times but was rejected each time.

「Why?」

She asked herself that question many times, but no matter how much she thought, she couldn’t come up with a viable explanation.

She couldn't determine Natsumi’s emotions. It was as if he had none at all.

However, that thought terrified Atsisaya to the brink of insanity.

So, she made herself believe that Natsumi did have emotions—it's just that human emotions were impossible to truly understand.

And she was right.

Normally, it would be difficult to even predict what others are thinking. But technology had not advanced very far, which eventually led to the invention of the Blue Pill at some point in time.

「I can't remember?」

She somehow bought one of these Blue Pills from an anonymous source in exchange for one of its key ingredients—a black flower that grew in a certain valley.

Of course, Atsisaya couldn't actually go to the valley and find the Blue Pill herself. Everything she had seen about it was a scam, set up by an organization of anonymous people who had scammed millions with their so-called "products."

They asked for impossible ingredients that didn't exist, and once people failed to find them, they simply guilt-tripped them and vanished.

But Atsisaya, who didn’t know this fact, was already planning to head to the valley.

Until she realized something.

「Is this really what I want?

I want him to only look at me.

So why am I trying to figure out his emotions?」

As she was thinking the right thing, an image of Natsumi being so broken that he committed suicide flashed in her mind.

As soon as she thought of that, her brain accelerated far beyond the usual.

She thought.

And thought.

Until she found one logical option.

One that would break him…

But make him stay alive.

F. O. R. E. V. E. R.

But Atsisaya didn’t realize that what she was about to do was something that should never happen.

It wouldn’t help her.

It wouldn’t help Natsumi.

Instead, it would awaken the wrath of an anomaly far greater than anything.

Something far worse than anyone imagined.

However, no one imagined the possibility.

From the beginning to the end, whatever Atsisaya did was according to □■□ plan.

「Why is everything frozen?」

Atsisaya wondered after she finally saw the world.

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I'm drowning.

Strange. Loud. Violent. Annoying.

It hurts.

Stop it...

Stop it.....!

No more...

I can't take this anymore.

“━━━━”

Voices. Too many. All at once. Yet none at all. A static-filled void of screams.

Or maybe whispers.

Or maybe silence.

Every sound is muffled, warped, stretched like sinew over rusted bones.

I can't hear anything.

Help...

I try to move, but the air is thick, suffocating, pressing down on me like a lead weight. Each step forward is swallowed by something I can’t see, as if the world itself is refusing to let me exist.

No matter how much I keep going, it keeps hurting.

My vision blurs, reality slipping through my fingers like sand. I reach out, but there’s nothing to grasp, nothing to hold onto.

I am not one with time.

Time is unbearable.

Each second drags my sanity through shattered glass.

I... don’t... think I can stay sane anymore.

Help...

Someone... someone help me.

So hollow.

Dark.

I can’t see anything.

I can't breathe.

I can’t open my eyes.

Why?

I don’t know.

Why?

I don’t know.

Why don’t I know?

…I don’t know.

Why?

Maybe it’s because I... am losing myself.

Why?

Maybe it’s because I am no more.

Why?

Maybe it’s because I am not alive.

Why?

Maybe it’s because I am unconscious.

Why?

Maybe... the world lost itself.

Why?

Maybe I am in an alternative universe.

Why?

...

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Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why?Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why?Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why?Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why?Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why?Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why?Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why?Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why?Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why?Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?Why?Why?

Why do I live?

...Because I live.

Does that make sense?

No.

Why?

Because I never lived.

So what does it mean to die?

Because i die.

Why?

It’s simple. I live to die and die like I'm about to live.

Does that make sense?

No.

I mean, I should live like I'm dying but die like I'm already dead.

That doesn’t make sense.

Wait...

Who am I even talking to?

...

Heh...

Ha..

AAAAAAAAAHHHAHAHHAHAAAAAAAAHHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHA....HA.....HA.....HA.....AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.....

Isn’t it ironic?

So wonderful.

So terrifying.

So nothing.

Before I could think of anything else, I fainted.

Maybe because i drowned.

I'm not sure but i do remember that i slipped and fell into the water.

Ah. I don't know.

After that, I don’t remember anything.

Soon, I found myself in an empty white room.

Empty.

Yet suffocating.

No doors. No windows. No way out.

White walls. White ceiling. White floor. A white bed in the center, too pristine, too still, untouched by anything real. The sheets were stiff, sterile, like they had never been touched by human hands.

Everything was white.

Bright. Strange.

Blinding.

The light above me flickered once. Or did it? No, it didn’t. It was just my vision. Everything was blurry.

I tried to move, but the air itself felt thick, suffocating. The corners of the room stretched and twisted in ways they shouldn’t. My fingers twitched. My breath came in slow, uneven gasps. I blinked once. Twice. The whiteness didn’t change.

The food they gave me was white. Rice, maybe. Something soft, something tasteless. I chewed and swallowed, but it never felt like eating. It felt like... existing.

No sound.

No voices.

No one spoke to me. No one answered when I screamed.

I scratched the walls, leaving behind tally marks—one, two, three, four. Again. Again. Again.

How long has it been?

A day? A week? A month?

My fingernails bled from scraping the walls. I licked the blood. The red was the only color in this world.

...Was it red?

No, it was white. It had to be white.

The light above flickered again. Or maybe it didn’t. My eyes were deceiving me. They always deceived me.

I stared at the ceiling. My breath felt wrong. The room had no sound, but I could hear something. A buzzing. A vibration beneath my skin.

Can’t take it anymore.

I bit my hand. Hard.

I wanted to feel something.

I tore at my skin, teeth sinking into flesh, pulling, tasting.

But it wasn’t real.

Nothing here was real.

I spat out the chunk of skin, watching as it landed on the floor. It should’ve been red, but it wasn’t. The floor swallowed it up, absorbed it, erased it.

White.

Everything was white.

I stared at my reflection in the food tray. My face was there, but it wasn’t mine. My eyes were sunken, hollow, alien.

Who am I?

Natsumi.

I started saying my name. Whispering at first, then louder. Then again. And again. And again.

If I stop saying it, will I disappear?

Natsumi.

The walls are closing in. Or maybe they aren’t.

I laughed. I laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe.

I laughed until my throat was raw, until my lungs burned, until my ribs ached.

Then I screamed.

Then I cried.

Then I did nothing.

...

How long has it been?

A year? A decade?

Eternity?

I scratched at my skin, peeling, digging, feeling nothing but static under my fingernails.

I took the white fork they gave me and stabbed my thigh.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

The pain wasn’t real.

Nothing here was real.

I needed to see red. I needed to remember what color was.

I dragged my fingers across the wounds, painting the walls with my name.

Natsumi.

A new color.

But it wasn’t new. It was just me.

I stared at my hands. They were shaking. The light above me buzzed louder.

Or maybe it didn’t.

Time is wrong.

Time is breaking.

I tried to remember something.

A name. A voice.

Atsisaya.

Who is that?

Who am I?

I am Natsumi.

Natsumi.

I laughed again.

I smiled.

I frowned.

I stopped breathing.

I started breathing again.

The white walls swallowed my voice, swallowed my thoughts, swallowed me whole.

I’m not real.

Or maybe the world isn’t real.

Or maybe nothing has ever been real.

I curled up on the bed, whispering to myself, tracing the tally marks on the walls.

How long has it been?

I stopped counting.

Numbers don’t mean anything anymore.

Time doesn’t mean anything anymore.

I don’t mean anything anymore.

The white fork was still in my hand.

I stared at it for a long time.

Then I smiled.

Then I strangled myself with my own hands.

Darkness.

Finally.

Darkness.

I opened my eyes.

Am I alive?

Or am I dead?

No.

It’s the same white room. But something is different.

The walls—rusted. The floor—cracked. The ceiling—stained, darkened, no longer the blinding white that had tormented me.

Wait. What happened?

Not that I care.

I picked up the fork, but it crumbled in my hands. Rusted, fragile, corroded beyond use. Worthless.

I clenched my fists.

Then, I punched the wall.

Again.

And again.

Knuckles splitting open, skin tearing, bones aching.

It doesn’t hurt.

Pain is numb.

Blood smeared across the rusted surface, dark and dry against the once-white walls.

I kept going.

Seconds turned to minutes.

Minutes turned to days.

Days into weeks.

Then—a crack.

Small, insignificant. But it was there.

I didn’t stop.

Months passed. Or maybe years.

Time doesn’t matter.

The hole widened, jagged edges forming a passage just barely large enough.

I stepped through.

And the world outside greeted me—

Rusted buildings, skeletal structures coated in moss and decay. Towers crumbling, their very foundations dissolving into dust. The wind was silent. No voices. No life.

Empty.

Where am I?

I wandered through the ruins, my footsteps hollow against the desolate ground. Then—I found it.

A familiar building. A familiar place.

The white rooms.

Dozens of them. Doors lined up in perfect sequence, rusted, corroded, broken. Some had collapsed entirely. Some were ajar, revealing what lay inside.

Bones.

Piles of them.

Dry. Brittle. Decomposed beyond recognition.

The stench of something long dead, something forgotten.

I moved through the hallways, dragging my fingers across the rusted metal. My body felt light. Or maybe heavy. I couldn't tell anymore.

Then—I found it.

The control room.

Dead monitors, shattered screens. Buttons covered in dust, useless. Nothing worked.

But there was something.

A notebook. Old. Yellowed pages, brittle with time.

I picked it up, flipping through the logs.

A name caught my eye.

[ Subject 52 ]

⟨Room No. 62⟩

I ran.

Back.

Through the halls, past the bones, past the forgotten corpses.

Room 62.

I stood there, staring at it.

Barely visible, rusted, eroded by time.

My room.

I turned back to the notebook, breath unsteady.

The first log was scrawled in precise, clinical handwriting.

⟨Experiment No. 6: The White Room⟩

⟨The subject was observed as nothing unusual. It was found unconscious at some river, likely a suicide attempt.⟩

I kept reading.

⟨Log 1: The subject hasn’t woken up for almost a week. No signs of severe injury, but vitals remain unstable. Brain activity fluctuates between normal and heightened states of distress.⟩

⟨Log 2: Subject has finally awakened. It does not respond to external stimuli. It merely stares at the ceiling. When questioned, it does not speak. Its pupils are dilated. Appears to be experiencing mild dissociation. We will continue observation.⟩

⟨Log 3: The subject has begun talking to itself. Speech patterns are erratic, often repeating the same phrases over and over. It has not acknowledged the researchers. It laughs at seemingly random intervals.⟩

⟨Log 4: The subject has begun displaying self-injurious behavior. It bites its own flesh. Attempts to eat it but spits it out. It does not react to pain. We have provided a fork for meal consumption, but it has instead used it to stab itself multiple times. Medical intervention was required.⟩

⟨Log 5: The subject has begun scratching the walls. It has started carving tally marks with its nails. Fingernails have been worn down to the nail beds. Bleeding profusely but does not react. Displays compulsive behavior, repeatedly writing its own name: 'Natsumi.'⟩

⟨Log 6: The subject's mental deterioration is accelerating. It exhibits erratic emotional responses—alternating between manic laughter and complete silence. It no longer acknowledges food or water unless force-fed. Attempts at verbal communication have failed. The subject only mutters to itself in fragmented sentences.⟩

⟨Log 7: The subject has become unresponsive to external stimuli. Even when forcefully restrained for medical treatment, it does not resist. It does not react. Its gaze remains unfocused. EEG scans indicate abnormal brain activity patterns, suggesting a decline in cognitive function.⟩

⟨Log 8: The subject has begun to fear time. It repeats its name continuously, as though trying to hold onto something. It carves it into its own skin with whatever it can find. It no longer recognizes its own reflection. When presented with a mirror, it reacted with violent hostility. The object had to be removed.⟩

⟨Log 9: The subject's sense of self is disintegrating. When asked its name, it hesitated before answering. It appears to be struggling with identity loss. The walls of Room 62 are now completely covered in blood and scratched writing. The subject has developed a severe aversion to light, often covering its face or hiding under the bed.⟩

⟨ Log 10: The subject attempted self-strangulation today. Was quickly saved by the recovery team. Upon resuscitation, the subject did not react. It simply lay on the ground, staring blankly into space. No further attempts at movement or speech. Estimated to be in a catatonic state. Further testing is required.⟩

I gripped the notebook. My hands were shaking.

My breath was heavy.

The words blurred.

I turned more pages. The logs continued. On and on. Dozens. Hundreds.

Then, my eyes landed on one.

⟨ Log 100: Subject strangled itself again. Resuscitation successful, but the subject did not move. It did not speak. It only stared at the ceiling. Vitals are still present, but the body remains unresponsive. Brain activity is almost non-existent. Further testing has been halted. The experiment is considered a failure. Subject 52 is assumed to be dead.The subject's body was to be disposed but the doctor refused it and said that was the last white room experiment, so let it be.⟩

I stared.

Assumed to be dead?

Body disposal?

I was still here.

Still breathing.

Still alive.

Or was I?

My fingers tightened around the notebook.

My pulse pounded in my ears.

I flipped the page.

There was one last note.

A single line, hastily scrawled.

「Russia has been facing multiple crises due to prolonged experimentation failures.」

Russia?

What the hell?

Anyways, I explored the facility—you could call it that.

An abandoned building of rusted corridors, crumbling walls, and forgotten experiments.

Each door bore a number. Each number had a name.

⟨ Experiment 1: Metamorphosis/Emergence ⟩

⟨ Experiment 2: Chainsaw man. ⟩

⟨ Experiment 4: Monster. ⟩

⟨ Experiment 5: My Star. ⟩

⟨ Experiment 17: Tokyo Ghoul. ⟩

Some were labeled in Japanese, but most were in Russian—letters I couldn’t read. Their meaning was lost to me, swallowed by a language foreign and cold.

But the names alone were unsettling.

Metamorphosis/Emergence.

What the hell is that?

Chainsaw man.

This reminds of something.

Monster..

This also reminds of something.

My Star.

This specifically reminds of something.

Tokyo Ghoul.

Yep. This really reminds of somethingm

I pressed my hand against one of the doors.

It was cold. The metal hummed beneath my fingertips, as if something on the other side was still alive.

I stepped back.

This place—

Whatever it was, whatever happened here—

I wanted no part of it.

Yep. It’s better to leave.

A-anyway, my greatness is too much for these fools.

The moment the thought crossed my mind, a wave of dizziness crashed over me. My vision blurred. My knees buckled.

“Ah.I completely forgot—I haven’t eaten.”

Not just that. Blood loss. Overexertion. Lack of sleep.

It all piled up.

...I fainted. Again.

By the time I woke up, I was in a medical tent. The world around me was filled with murmuring voices. Cold hands checked my pulse, bright lights shone into my eyes.

I wasn’t alone.

Men in uniforms. Police.

I blinked, trying to sit up, but my body felt like lead.

They spoke in Russian—words that made no sense to me.

Then, someone brought a translator.

It wasn’t accurate, but it worked.

Somewhat.

I told them everything. Well, not everything.

Just that I had lost something precious. That I had wandered near a river, thinking of jumping in.

But I didn’t.

Because—

Someone pushed me.

I told them how I drowned. How everything after that was hazy. How strange men dragged me somewhere I couldn’t remember.

It wasn’t scary.

It wasn’t scary at all.

I wasn’t scared at all.

...Then why is my body shaking?

Why?

I don’t know.

I’m not scared.

I’m just... tired.

After that, I told them about the White Room.

They listened. Expressionless.

Then, they looked at me.

With something that could have been pity.

Or something else entirely.

One of them muttered something in Russian. The translator hesitated.

Then, I heard the translation.

“It happens.”

...What?

A translation error, maybe?

I don’t know.

After their investigation, they gave me food.

Then, they kicked me out.

It didn’t matter. I wasn’t alone.

Not quite.

I kept talking to myself for comfort.

And then—

Mikurin appeared.

She stood in front of me, arms crossed, tilting her head.

She spoke Russian fluently.

Of course.

It made sense. A war criminal would know many languages.

The scenery around me shifted.

No—

It had always been this way.

Futuristic.

Beyond what I had known.

Buildings stretched into the sky, adorned with holographic signs. Drones floated through the air. Cars flew overhead.

People floated too—moving effortlessly through the streets with gravity-defying technology.

Nano-protected doors. Digital landscapes embedded into reality itself.

It felt—

Like a sci-fi anime.

Was Russia really this advanced compared to Japan?

No.

Something was wrong.

I checked the local clock.

It was blurry.

Unreadable.

I asked someone else to read it for me.

They answered.

But their voice—

It came out as static.

I couldn’t understand a word.

Ah. I might know this.

Damn it.

Anyways, I needed money.

I tried cleaning houses.

No one hired me.

I was kicked out.

But the officers had given me some money in exchange for the information.

So I used it.

I bought a small room. Run-down. Falling apart.

But at least it was a place to sleep.

A place that wasn’t white.

A place where I wasn’t alone.

I worked.

Harder.

Every day.

Every second.

So I could return to Japan.

So I could go home.

Months passed.

Then—

A siren rang through the city.

Loud.

Deafening.

The ground trembled.

Explosions.

One after another.

Chaos.

Men in uniforms stormed the streets. Guns raised. Firing indiscriminately.

Anyone who resisted—

Killed on sight.

I tried to run.

But they caught me.

A hand grabbed my arm. Cold metal pressed against my temple.

A soldier.

He spoke in Russian, voice unreadable.

I couldn’t understand.

I couldn’t—

Mikurin stepped forward.

She spoke to him. Fast. Confident.

She tried to persuade him.

It didn’t work.

His grip tightened.

Ah.

I see.

No choice, then.

I kicked him.

Hard.

Grabbed the gun.

Ran.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears.

The city burned around me.

People screamed.

Buildings collapsed.

At that time—

I didn’t know that the third World War had begun.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Sorry but i need to go on a hiatus.

I need a break.

I will be back on 21st.

Once I'm back the chapters will release more frequently, i hope.

Shattered Real!ty — Dust! 『 6 』

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