"When lies become reality, only truth can cut through the shadows."— Hoshino Souta
Scene 1: Nightfall, Uneasy Calm
The Hoshino household lay blanketed in quiet—not the soothing kind, but the kind that made the air feel heavier, charged with something unseen.
Ai sat curled on the couch, fingers clutching the storybook Ruby had helped her write earlier that day. The pages glowed with the warmth of fresh ink, words painted with hope—but beneath them, a quiet unease stirred.
Souta stood near the window, arms crossed, golden eyes narrowed at the night beyond the glass. He wasn't looking at the world outside. He was looking deeper—beyond perception, beyond reality itself.
"Souma's moving faster than I expected."
Happy perched on Souta's shoulder, shifting uneasily. His tiny paws twitched, gripping at Souta's collar.
"It's a shadow… coming for Mama's mind."
Scene 2: The Nightmare Begins
Then—
The lights flickered violently. Once. Twice. Then—out.
A sudden, suffocating darkness swallowed the room, pressing against the walls like a living thing.
But Ai—Ai remained illuminated.
A cold, eerie glow emanated from her forehead, pulsing with unnatural energy. The air rippled around her, distorted—memories unraveling into thin, jagged strands, breaking apart like shards of glass.
She gasped, clutching her temples as voices coiled inside her mind—whispers, insidious and relentless.
"You never loved them."
"They will leave you alone."
"You are nothing."
The words slithered into the depths of her consciousness, winding through old wounds, amplifying doubts she had buried long ago.
Her breath hitched, her vision blurred—her reality tilting.
Scene 3: Souta's Power Unleashed
Souta reacted instantly.
His feet barely touched the floor as he surged forward, arms outstretched, golden light bursting from his fingertips in a shockwave.
"No."
The power spread like wildfire—brilliant, alive, binding itself to something deeper than energy.
Memories. Love.
Invisible threads materialized in the air, weaving between them all—Ai, Ruby, Aqua, Happy. Each strand connected, glowing softly, pulsing like heartbeats.
Souta pressed his hands together, focusing, pushing past thresholds he had never tested before.
"I won't let you rewrite her. I protect my family—no matter what."
The shadowy whispers screeched, writhing against his presence.
They fought, clawing at the light, twisting and contorting.
But Souta's power only grew.
A golden sphere formed—encasing Ai, shielding her, anchoring her in reality.
Scene 4: The Turning Point
The tension in the room snapped like a breaking thread.
Ai gasped, her breath returning to steady rhythm, the darkness peeling away from her mind like smoke dissipating in the wind.
Happy hopped onto Ai's lap, pressing against her trembling hands, his stitched smile impossibly bright.
Ruby tightened her grip around Ai's fingers, knuckles white but determined.
Aqua stood slightly back, watching Souta—watching the impossible thing he had done.
"You… did it, Souta."
Souta exhaled slowly, exhaustion creeping into his muscles, but his expression was unwavering.
"I can protect them. And I will keep getting stronger."
Scene 5: A Family's Promise
Ai's gaze swept over her children—her pillars, her proof that love was real, tangible, unbreakable.
Tears welled in her eyes, unbidden. She swallowed hard, her voice unsteady.
"Thank you… for saving me."
Ruby flashed a smile, bright and fierce.
"We're a family. We always fight together."
Souta lifted his chin, golden eyes still sharp, still burning.
"No matter what comes, we'll face it—together."
Happy, small and soft, nestled against Ai's arms, his tiny voice full of quiet certainty.
"Forever."
Scene 6: Souma Watches, Calculating
Far away—where light barely reached, where silence was stretched thin—Souma sat before a row of flickering screens.
His fingers tapped lightly against the desk, rhythmic, thoughtful.
His lips curled, amusement threading through his expression.
"Interesting."
He reclined slightly, tilting his head.
"So the boy's power has grown. Very well."
A pause. A shift. A decision.
"Then the next move… must be precise."
Slowly, carefully, deliberately—he reached for something beside him.
A notebook. A page not yet twisted.
And his fingers hovered over the ink, ready to rewrite reality once again.