The air crackled with energy as Taro faced Toei, their Reibones clashing in a blur of steel and sparks. Sweat beaded on Taro's brow, his breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps. Each step backward felt like a retreat from an insurmountable wall—Toei's skill was relentless, a storm Taro couldn't break through.
"Not a single hit," Taro thought, frustration gnawing at him. "The gap between us is too wide."
Toei surged forward, his Reibone slicing through the air with lethal precision. Taro barely raised his weapon in time to parry, the force of Toei's three-directional slashes pushing him to the edge of his reflexes. An uppercut slash followed, swift and brutal, knocking Taro's Reibone from his grip. It spun through the air, glinting under the dreamscape's eerie light, and before Taro could recover, Toei unleashed a flurry of strikes. Blood seeped from shallow cuts across Taro's arms, stinging reminders of his failure.
Rage boiled within him, molten and consuming. His veins pulsed like taut cables, his vision narrowing to a pinpoint. Before Toei could react, Taro roared, his fist slamming into the bot's head with primal force. The ground shuddered as Toei's head crashed into the dirt. Taro followed with a point-blank energy blast, obliterating the bot's head in a shower of sparks and twisted metal.
Mexus, who had been watching from the sidelines, stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "Hey, kid, you can't just destroy the bot because you got scratched up. That's not growth—it's a tantrum."
Taro's head hung low, shame warring with his lingering anger. He clenched his fists, unable to meet Mexus's gaze.
Mexus sighed, softening. "I get it, Taro. You're frustrated. Tell you what—I don't do this often, but take the rest of the day to clear your head. You can leave the dreamscape, just this once."
Taro's eyes widened, surprise cutting through his turmoil. "You're serious? I can really leave?"
Mexus nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You've been here a while, kid. But don't get used to it—this is a one-time deal."
Taro hesitated, then mumbled, "Thanks, Mexus."
Without warning, Mexus raised his hand, and a blinding blast of energy engulfed Taro. The dreamscape dissolved in a whirl of light.
[Wake World]
Taro jolted awake, heart pounding. He blinked, expecting chaos, but his room was untouched—exactly as he'd left it. The bed was neatly made, the desk cluttered with the same books and gadgets. Confusion creased his brow. *Twenty-one days in the dreamscape, and nothing's changed?*
He grabbed his phone, checking the date. Only two days had passed in the real world. "So, the dreamscape and this world run on different timelines," he murmured, piecing it together. "Separate space-time continuums."
Sunlight streamed through his window, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow. Taro stood, feeling the weight of his time in the dreamscape linger in his muscles. "It's been forever for me, even if it's only been days here," he said to himself. "Might as well take a walk."
He changed into fresh clothes and stepped outside, the familiar streets of his neighborhood stretching before him.
[Outdoors]
The streets stretched before Taro, achingly familiar yet transformed. The same cracked sidewalks, the same shop signs faded by time, the same hum of daily life—parents guiding their children, vendors calling out to customers, kids chasing each other with carefree laughter. He'd walked these paths countless times, each step heavy with resentment, his heart a closed fist against the world. But today, the air carried a sweetness he'd never noticed, the breeze soft against his skin, the colors of the world vivid and alive.
"What's different?" he wondered, his steps slowing. "This is the same place I've hated for so long."
He paused, taking in the scene. A mother knelt to tie her daughter's shoe, her smile patient and warm. An old man at a fruit stand laughed with a customer, his hands gesturing wildly as he told a story. Across the street, children darted through a park, their shouts mingling with the rustle of leaves in the wind. The world pulsed with life, and Taro felt a lump rise in his throat. How had he missed this? How had he let his anger blind him to the quiet beauty woven into the everyday?
He sank onto a bench, the wood cool beneath him, and let his gaze drift to the park. A boy swung from a climbing frame, his grin wide enough to light the sky. A girl chased a stray ball, her laughter ringing like a bell. Taro's chest tightened, a bittersweet ache spreading through him. "I've been so blind," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "All this time, this was right here, and I couldn't see it. I was too busy hating everything—myself most of all."
His thoughts drifted to Mexus, the gruff mentor who'd pushed him to his limits, who'd seen something in him worth saving. Mexus hadn't just trained him to fight; he'd given Taro a chance to rediscover the world, to find meaning in the ordinary. The memory of Mexus's words—*"Take the day to cool your head"*—echoed in his mind, and Taro's eyes stung with unshed tears. "You didn't have to do that," he murmured, as if Mexus could hear him across the divide between worlds. "You didn't have to give me this, but you did."
He leaned back, tilting his face toward the sky. The clouds drifted lazily, their edges gilded by the sun. For the first time in years, Taro felt a weight lift from his shoulders, replaced by a quiet resolve. "I've been running from this world," he admitted to himself, "but it's not the enemy. I was." The realization settled into him, heavy but freeing. He thought of the dreamscape, of Toei's relentless attacks, of Mexus's unwavering belief. "I'm not running anymore."
Taro stood, his movements deliberate, his heart steady. The park, the streets, the people—they weren't just scenery anymore. They were a reminder of what he could fight for, what he *would* fight for. "I'm going back," he said, his voice firm with newfound determination. "And this time, I'll show Mexus I'm worth it."
With a final glance at the vibrant world around him, Taro turned toward the warehouse, his steps carrying the strength of a heart no longer bound by hatred.
[Dreamscape: Warehouse]
Taro stood before the warehouse, its shadowed bulk looming like a monument to his struggles. The rusted doors creaked under his touch, and as he stepped inside, the familiar hum of the dreamscape enveloped him. The air was thick with the electric tang of energy, the ground scarred from countless battles. Mexus was nowhere to be seen, but Taro felt his mentor's presence—a silent, watchful force that had guided him through every failure and fleeting triumph.
His gaze settled on Toei, standing motionless at the center of the training grounds. The bot's Reibone gleamed, its repaired form a stark reminder of Taro's earlier outburst. Shame flickered in his chest, but it was quickly overshadowed by something stronger—a burning resolve that pulsed like a second heartbeat.
"Toei," Taro said, his voice low but steady, each word carrying the weight of his newfound clarity. "I owe Mexus everything. He saw something in me when I couldn't see it myself. I'm done letting him down—and you're going to help me prove it."
He tightened his grip on his Reibone, the weapon's weight grounding him. Memories of the wake world flooded his mind: the sunlight spilling across his room, the laughter of children in the park, the quiet beauty of a life he'd once despised. Those moments had cracked open something inside him, a realization that the world wasn't his enemy. His hatred had been a veil, blinding him to the possibility of hope. Mexus had given him the chance to see that, to step out of the dreamscape and breathe in a world that still held light. Now, Taro carried that light back with him, and it fueled every fiber of his being.
"I'm not the same person I was," he whispered, more to himself than to Toei. "I can't be."
Toei activated, its Reibone flashing as it lunged forward with mechanical precision. But Taro was ready. His eyes glowed with a faint green aura, sharp and unyielding, as if the dreamscape itself had ignited his soul. His body moved before his mind could catch up, the Reibone an extension of his will. Toei's blade slashed downward, but Taro countered with a whirlwind of 360-degree strikes, his movements a blur of instinct and fury. Metal screamed as his Reibone carved through Toei's arm, severing it in a burst of sparks.
The bot didn't falter, seizing its Reibone with its remaining hand and charging forward. Taro's heart raced, not with fear, but with exhilaration. *I'm seeing it,* he thought, his senses razor-sharp. Toei's attacks unfolded before him like a map, each move predictable yet challenging. *It's not just precognition. My skills… I'm actually keeping up.*
The clash was a dance of steel and speed, sparks flaring with every strike. Taro's muscles burned, his breaths sharp, but he felt alive—more alive than he ever had in the dreamscape. Each parry, each dodge, was a testament to the hours of pain and failure, the lessons Mexus had drilled into him. But it was more than technique. It was the gratitude swelling in his chest, the realization that Mexus had believed in him when he'd been too broken to believe in himself. That belief was a fire, and Taro let it consume him.
"I won't fail you," he growled under his breath, picturing Mexus's stern yet kind eyes. "Not now. Not ever."
With a final, calculated step, Taro pivoted, his Reibone arcing with perfect precision. Toei's blade flew from its grip, spinning through the air and clattering to the ground. The bot froze, its systems stuttering in defeat. Taro stood panting, his Reibone trembling in his hands. Disbelief washed over him, followed by a rush of childlike joy that lit up his face. He'd done it. He'd beaten Toei—the unbeatable.
"I did it," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. His knees buckled slightly, not from exhaustion, but from the weight of what this victory meant. It wasn't just about Toei. It was about proving to himself—and to Mexus—that he was worthy of the second chance he'd been given. Tears pricked at his eyes, but he blinked them away, a shaky laugh escaping his lips. "I really did it."
From the shadows, Mexus watched, his silhouette barely visible against the dreamscape's flickering light. A rare smile softened his features. "You've come a long way, kid," he murmured, his voice too low for Taro to hear. "I never doubted you'd get here."
With a quiet nod to himself, Mexus turned and melted into the darkness, leaving Taro to bask in the glow of his triumph.