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The moment Akane stepped through the door, the world behind him dissolved into silence.
When he looks back, the door also vanishes as it has never been there. He stood upon a vast plain of pale radiance, endless and depthless.
Above, the same starry sky shimmered faintly, but its constellations were rearranged, foreign.
There was no horizon, no air, only the faint echo of his own breath.
And then, before him—
A figure sat.
A chair. A table. A Go board.
Same dark hair clinging to the temple. Same grey eyes, but calmer, cold, perfectly still, as if sculpted from reason itself.
The replica sat straight, one leg crossed over the other, hands resting lightly on his knees. For a long moment, neither spoke.
Akane inspects the opposite figure, the perfect copy of himself, and feels a faint rejection from the depths; his intuition seems to be rejecting this copy as if it were just a cheap reflection.
Akane knows it, a flawless posture, perfect, and he seems calculating all the time.
The silence was so complete that even Akane's heartbeat felt intrusive.
Then the replica opened his mouth, voice even and detached, a tone without color:
"Welcome, Akane. To the game that will decide whether you are worthy, worthy of what you are, and of the Paths you tread."
"Worthy?" Akane retorted directly without waiting to continue. "Of myself?"
"Of yourself," the replica replied, unblinking.
"You've always sought to be greater than who you are, but you never defined what 'you' means." The words lingered, faint ripples in the airless space.
"The test shall commence when you are ready. Or, perhaps," the replica tilted his head slightly, "you'd rather ask questions first? to satisfy that ceaseless thirst for knowledge?"
"By the way, you don't allow me to continue, isn't there seems to be a caution? Perhaps by knowing, you will feel at ease with my presence."
After a moment, Akane exhaled slowly. His expression didn't change.
"I thought that opening the door was a challenge in itself, so it is not?" he spoke lightly.
And again, "What are you?"
"Where is this?"
"What do I gain from this test?"
A pause. "And how do I pass it?"
The mirror of him smiled faintly, not mockingly, but knowingly.
"Predictable."
"Some guesses are off, but your questions fall within the expected range."
"You already know, don't you?"
"I'm you. The same self. The same mind." He gestured lazily toward the white expanse.
"This place, this border, is nothing but your own projection. The point where challenge and fear meet thought. The realm you've always imagined when wondering how far your mind could go before it collapses."
Akane's eyes flickered, but he said nothing.
"As for passing the test," the replica continued, "It's simple for someone like us. There's no need for brute force, no vulgar display of strength."
"You only need to defeat me in a game of Go."
"The board is simple, isn't it? Two colors, infinite outcomes."
"Every move is a question. Every question is a consequence. That's the essence of knowledge, choice bound by reason."
"But wisdom… wisdom lies in knowing when not to play, when to let the board breathe."
The replica's voice grew quieter, almost gentle. "You, however, never let the board breathe. You always rush to control, to dominate. Can you resist that part of yourself?"
Then, the replica closed his eyes, as if dismissing the conversation altogether.
The stillness returned, heavier this time.
Akane stood there for a while, thinking. He turned his head slightly, scanning the empty space, white ground beneath his feet, stars above, no end in sight.
He knew.
This was not the real world.
It never was.
This was a dream, or perhaps more than that, his Inner Realm, shaped by memories, fears, and the unspoken weight of his thoughts.
A sea outside, an endless void within.
A reflection of himself.
"A dark and barren sea," he murmured, "that yearns for something like light."
"Whimsical, isn't it?" He smiled faintly to himself and began walking toward the opposite chair.
Each step felt heavier, as though gravity returned only to remind him of frailty.
When he finally sat, the Go board between them seemed to breathe.
The stones, black and white, shimmered faintly, each piece humming with faint resonance.
The replica opened his eyes again.
Their gazes met, cold and hollow against calm and sharp.
For a heartbeat, it was like staring into a mirror that stared back too deeply.
"To outplay yourself," the replica said quietly, "means to surpass what you already understand."
"You have always sought logic and rationality, Akane. And here I am, the embodiment of that very dream."
The replica raises his hand, takes the black stone.
Click
The first black stone fell like a heartbeat against the board.
The white void trembled faintly.
The game began.