Ikku opened his eyes.
He found himself in an entirely white space. No walls, no ceiling, just an infinite expanse of emptiness stretching as far as the eye could see.
I guess I must be inside my own mind, he thought.
“That’s exactly right, little rat,” echoed a familiar voice behind him.
Ikku turned around, and his heart sank. His father. The same glassy, drunken eyes, the same bottle in hand, as if he had never left that miserable role.
“Tch... it had to be you,” Ikku muttered, visibly annoyed.
“Don’t mix things up, you little brat,” his father snapped with disdain. “If I’m here, it’s because you’re the one thinking of me. Can’t even forget me, can you? Or maybe you’re hoping someone still cares about you. Don’t kid yourself. Life’s much easier without you.”
Each word was like a dagger. Ikku’s anger flared, but this time he didn’t flinch. He wasn’t afraid anymore.
“I’m not afraid of you anymore,” he said firmly, his gaze unwavering.
His father raised an eyebrow, a cruel smirk spreading across his lips.
“Oh, you think you’re grown now? Stay in your place, you little piece of trash!” he shouted, hurling the bottle of alcohol straight at Ikku’s face.
But this time, Ikku caught it effortlessly. His voice remained calm.
“I told you. You can’t hurt me anymore.”
Furious, his father charged at him, fist raised, ready to strike. But Ikku stopped him without effort, grabbing him mid-charge and throwing him to the ground. He looked down at him, filled with contempt and disgust.
“Look at you,” Ikku murmured. “In the end, the best thing you ever did was let me go.”
His father, sprawled on the ground, spat out a curse.
“And the best thing you ever did was get out of our lives, you useless piece of garbage.”
This time, Ikku couldn’t hold back his rage. His fist came crashing down on his father. But before he could react, the white world around him shattered.
Ikku woke up with a start, gasping for air, lying on the bed. He tore off the simulation helmet, his fists still clenched in anger.
“So, how was it?” Hypsen asked.
“Well, I understand things better now,” Ikku replied, running a hand over his face.
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“Come back tomorrow. Next time will probably be the breakthrough,” Hypsen said with an encouraging smile.
“Yes, thank you, Professor Hypsen. And Carla?”
“She’s still in the simulation,” Hypsen replied.
Suddenly, a scream pierced the air. Carla’s cries filled the room as she thrashed violently in her sleep.
“What’s happening?!” Ikku shouted, panicked.
“She’s losing control!” Hypsen exclaimed, rushing to the computer to shut down the simulation.
Hypsen disconnected Carla’s helmet from the system. She woke abruptly, drenched in sweat, gasping for air, her eyes wide with terror.
Ikku approached her, concerned, gently placing a hand on her shoulder to comfort her.
“Carla, are you okay?” he asked softly.
But Carla flinched, violently pushing his hand away.
“LEAVE ME ALONE!” she screamed before collapsing to the ground, trembling in fear.
Ikku, stunned, stepped back.
“What’s wrong? What did you see?” he asked, his worry deepening.
Carla slowly regained her composure, then, without a word, stood up and ran out of the room. Ikku turned to Hypsen, confused.
“What did she see?” he asked, searching for an explanation.
Hypsen, his expression grave, simply replied:
“The simulation is personal. Only she can tell you.”
Ikku left the lab in a rush, determined to find Carla. He ran through the streets, but she was nowhere to be found.
“It’s no use...” he thought. “Carla’s way faster than me. In her state, she’s probably already back home.”
Without wasting any time, he headed to their building. Out of breath, he finally reached Carla’s apartment and knocked on the door.
The silence that followed felt like an eternity. At last, after several long seconds, the door cracked open. Carla appeared partially, her face half-hidden behind the door, her eyes clouded with an indescribable sadness. She remained silent, her demeanor distant.
“Carla...” Ikku began softly, trying to meet her gaze. “I don’t know what you saw, but you don’t have to worry. I...”
Before he could finish, Carla slowly closed the door without a word. The quiet gesture struck Ikku like a hammer to the chest. He stood frozen, his fist still raised as if to knock again, but he didn’t. A deep despair spread across his face.
“Why won’t she talk to me? What did she see?” he thought, helpless.
After a moment, Ikku lowered his head, his shoulders slumping under the weight of confusion. He sighed deeply and turned away, dragging his feet back to his apartment.
Once inside, he collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. The silence of the room was stifling, a mirror to the whirlwind of thoughts racing in his mind.
“The others are probably still training with Zeno,” he thought, trying to distract himself. But reality quickly caught up with him. “Why did I have to think of my father?!” Bitterness gnawed at him. “And what happened to Carla?”
Each question haunted him, but he knew he wouldn’t find answers tonight. A heavy sigh escaped him as he closed his eyes.
“No point torturing myself...” he murmured. “I should take a nap.”
The weight of the day, combined with his lingering anxiety, eventually pulled him into a restless sleep.
Hours later, the sound of the doorbell jolted him awake. Still half-asleep, he muttered:
“Damn... must’ve left the keys in the door. It’s probably Yume and Kenny.”
He rushed to the door, but to his surprise, it wasn’t his usual friends standing there. It was Carla.
“Ca...Carla?” he stammered, shocked to see her. She kept her head down, visibly embarrassed, and murmured in a sad, hesitant tone:
“I’m sorry for earlier...”
“It’s nothing, really,” Ikku replied with a warm smile. But Carla still avoided his gaze. After a moment of hesitation, she asked:
“Could you... stay with me tonight? I... I don’t want to be alone...”
Ikku, completely caught off guard by the unexpected request, answered with equal hesitation:
“Uh... y-yeah, of course... no problem.”