Chapter 17: After
Daiki didn't cry at first.
Not when they told him.
Not when he saw the white sheet over the stretcher.
Not even when Shiro's parents broke down in the hallway, wailing like animals, clawing at the hospital walls as if that would tear time backwards.
He just stood there.
Still.
Quiet.
Frozen.
His hands clenched so tight his nails cut into his palms.
But no tears came.
School shut down the next day.
Everyone thought it was for respect.
It wasn't.
They just didn't know what to say.
The teachers tried to frame it gently—Shiro was troubled, he was quiet, we didn't see the signs—but Daiki knew they were lying.
Not just to the students.
But to themselves.
Shiro didn't break.
He disappeared.
Bit by bit.
And no one noticed until there was nothing left.
Daiki is sitting alone at lunch now.
Same table.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Different world.
He kept catching himself glancing at the seat across from him.
It stayed empty.
No one dared sit there.
As if it belonged to a ghost now.
Some kids whispered.
About the shrine.
About curses.
Some even joke.
Guess he finally snapped.
He always looked like a ghost anyway.
Daiki didn't say anything.
But he remembered every name.
And every face.
Nights were the worst.
That was when the dreams started.
Not of Shiro smiling or laughing.
But off his back, walking away.
Through the woods.
Through mirrors.
Down a hallway Daiki couldn't follow him through.
And Daiki would scream his name, but his voice wouldn't come out.
He'd wake up gasping, nails clawing his own neck as if trying to rip something out.
The ache didn't go away.
Two weeks later, Daiki returned to the shrine.
Not because he believed in ghosts.
Not even because he missed Shiro.
But because he was angry.
At him.
At himself.
At the world.
What the hell was I supposed to do? He shouted into the trees.
The woods didn't answer.
The wind moved like breath.
The shrine stood silent.
Its stone was colder than he remembered.
He stared up the steps.
Where the coroner said they found him.
Where the moss still hasn't dried.
There were flowers there now.
Left by someone else.
Probably a teacher trying to make peace.
Daiki didn't care.
He stepped past them.
And sat.
Just… sat.
Until the sun started to set.
He didn't notice he was crying until he tasted the salt.
Hot.
Sharp.
Uncontrollable.
He bit his fist until he bled just to keep from screaming.
He hated him.
He hated him for leaving.
For being too weak.
For making him care that much.
But most of all—
He hated that a part of him was gone now too.
The best part.
The part that knew how to talk about pain without hiding behind smiles and sarcasm.
The part that believed in monsters and still hoped to tame them.
The part that trusted Daiki.
And now it was silent.
Forever.
Back at school, people started pretending again.
Pretending Shiro was just… a sad chapter.
A whisper.
A cautionary tale.
Daiki kept walking the halls like a ghost.
But he wasn't lost.
He was burning.
And somewhere deep inside, he made a quiet promise:
I don't care what I have to become.
I'll find out what happened to you.
Even if I have to follow you into the dark.
Daiki wasn’t sad because Shiro died,
Daiki had been sad because he did not get his revenge, all those years of pain
Tourment
Suffering
The time to exact revenge was cut
Cut short
No more chances
Never again
Daiki finally remembered everything Shiro did to him
Maybe I was just too blind to see he said
Ill find him, and ill make him pay
He cant be dead right?
Daiki began going into a spiral cycle of despair, he didn’t know what to think about Shiro
What..?
I..don’t understand…whats this pain?
