Chapter 45.5: Branch.
They say pressure comes from outside.
But in some cases, it grows from within. A parasite disguised as perfectionism. A voice that only says: More. Better. Again.
No one told him he had to be great. Not his mother. Not his father. Not even his teacher. But he made it law. And when he couldn't reach it-he punished himself.
That version of me... the me of this branch...
He stood in his room at 3:41 A.M., wrapped a belt around the ceiling hook, and didn't cry once.
Because to him, failure wasn't tragedy. It was inevitability.
And when his mother found him, she didn't scream.
She just collapsed, like a house quietly folding in on itself.
The image flickers-Now the neighborhood is clad in black.
My father's suit doesn't fit right. His face even less. My mother's hand shakes as she presses it to the photo frame.
Shimo is sobbing-ugly, open. Her parents are silent behind her.
Yuuta stands at the back, gripping her umbrella so tightly her knuckles are pale.
No rain.
Just the weight of it all.
I watch them cry.
And I whisper- even though I can't feel my lips moving:
"Is this... what would've happened? In this world?"
A gentle voice responds-light, airy, and unmistakably childlike:
"Yes."
•••••••
Ren turned.
The girl from the court stood beside him, arms behind her back.
No fear. No hesitation. Just calm.
He studied her quietly. "So... this is my fault?"
"No," she said, smiling slightly. "This is his story. You just happened to arrive when it was ending."
He exhaled shakily. "If I hadn't... if he hadn't died... I wouldn't be here."
She nodded once.
Ren looked at his hand. "Then... this is the price."
His thoughts were spiraling. Tight. Dangerous. But not yet out of control.
They were alone again, back at the basketball court.
Same shadows. Same half-moon in the sky.
She picked up the ball and spun it gently in her hands. "Wanna know something weird?"
"What?"
"This place helps me explain things. It's like... basketball is just a game, right? But if you think of the court as a world, then every player's movement changes the balance."
He waited.
"So when a player leaves mid-game, someone has to take their spot. Not always perfectly. But someone has to move. Otherwise... the play freezes."
Ren swallowed. "And that someone was me?"
She nodded. "You subbed in."
"...What happened to the other girl? The one I saw earlier?"
"She's "sleeping"," the girl said quietly. "She let me borrow her. Because she's kind. Because she didn't want me to be alone."
Ren looked at her sharply. "Borrow?"
A small nod. "There are spirits. Some just... slip into people. If you're broken enough, quiet enough, or just kind enough... they don't need to fight you. They just stay. Softly."
His breath hitched. "Are you one?"
"Yeah," she said, sitting on the edge of the bench. "Spiritualists exist. Some people have them inside. Some don't."
"Is that what I am?" he asked, "Do I have one?"
"If you've ever seen another version of yourself in a dream," she said gently, "then probably."
"...And if not?"
She tilted her head. "Then you might be the spirit."
Silence stretched between them.
Wind rustled through the fence.
Then she stood up, brushing dust from her skirt.
"Time to go.
Ren stood too. ""Wait-what happens to this world's version of me? Is he really gone?"
The girl paused.
Then said:
"To keep you alive.... he has to die."
"Their son. The real one."
Something snapped.
Ren's breath caught.
He could almost hear the glass breaking in his mind.
His spiraling thoughts, which had been circling in neat tight loops-
Now surged outward, crashing through the edges of his reason.
He looked up at the sky-
The sun was sinking behind the trees, bleeding red into the clouds.
'This world had a Ren. One with a future. One with regrets.'
'One with love.'
And I killed him just by being here.
His knees trembled.
He gripped the edge of the bench.
'His mother... my mother....'
'She's not smiling for me.'
'She's smiling for someone I replaced.'
'And every smile I earn here is stolen from a boy who didn't make it.'
The sun dipped lower.
And in that final sliver of light-Tokusake Ren, the man, the ghost, the imposter-began to break.
Not from sorrow.
But from the unbearable weight of existing in place of someone else.