NOVEL WEB Chapter 4: Eyes on the Hope of the Future.
Chapter 4: Eyes on the Hope of the Future.
Yuuta dreams.
She knows she's dreaming.
The air is thick with something unspoken, the kind of silence that lingers between words never said. Around her, the world shifts-fluid, unstable, yet vividly real.
She stands in an empty library, books stretching endlessly into a sky with no ceiling. But the pages are blank, ink dripping from the shelves like rain.
And then-she sees herself.
Not just one. Many.
A ten-year-old girl, small and wide-eyed, clutching a storybook like it's the only thing keeping her afloat.
A sixteen-year-old, leaning against a desk, arms crossed, gaze sharp and bitter.
An eighteen-year-old, sitting on a bench, exhausted, lost, but still hoping.
A twenty-year-old, standing tall, weary but hardened by the weight of years.
And finally-her current self.
They are all there, waiting.
Watching.
And the dream begins.
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She stands in a house too large, halls stretching into the distance like a maze with no end. Cold. Silent.
The walls are pristine, the floors polished, yet there is no warmth here-only the weight of expectation pressing down on every surface. The air smells faintly of expensive perfume and something sharper beneath it, something suffocating.
At the far end of the corridor, voices echo.
"Sit up straight, Yuuta."
Her mother's voice, clipped and precise. Yuuta's small hands tremble as she grips the edge of the dinner table. The silverware gleams under the chandelier's light.
Her father barely looks up from his documents. "You need to stop wasting time with those silly stories."
Yuuta's fingers curl around the corner of her book. The pages are worn, well-loved. She doesn't let go.
Her mother exhales sharply. "Honestly, where do you think stories will get you? You should be studying. Focusing."
She doesn't reply. She knows better.
The house is too big. The rooms too empty. The silence too loud.
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"Yuuta's weird."
The words cut sharper than she expects.
In the schoolyard, the other children whisper, their voices hushed but just loud enough for her to hear.
"She talks to herself."
"Always staring out the window."
"Never wants to play."
She grips her book tighter, like a lifeline. It doesn't help.
A boy sneers at her. "What, too good to talk to us?"
She shakes her head. Opens her mouth-
But no words come out.
A girl giggles, nudging her friend. "She's just weird."
The world tilts, the laughter ringing in her ears.
"She's not like other children."
She hears the hushed voices of relatives during family gatherings, murmuring behind porcelain cups and polite smiles.
"She's quiet."
"A little odd."
"Not very sociable."
Her mother sighs, pressing fingers to her temple. "She'll grow out of it."
Yuuta watches from the staircase, hidden behind the wooden railing. She clutches the book to her chest, heart pounding in her ears.
She wonders if she was supposed to be different.
More like them.
Less like her.
She stands in the hallway again. The too-large house stretches endlessly.
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And in front of her, a ten-year-old girl looks up, wide-eyed, holding a book like a shield.
"You wanted to be happy, didn't you?"
Yuuta exhales. "I did."
Her child self frowns, clutching the book even tighter.
"Then why did you stop trying?"
Before she can answer, the world cracks.
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She is in a school hallway now. The air smells like chalk dust and cheap cafeteria food.
Her sixteen-year-old self leans against a locker, unimpressed.
"You really thought that confession was gonna work?" she scoffs.
Yuuta grimaces. "I was ten years old just a second ago. Can we not?"
Her teenage self rolls her eyes. "You're avoiding the question."
The world flickers.
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A boy stands there, a half-formed memory. His features blur at the edges, like a photograph left out in the rain-recognizable, yet slipping away. The way his lips move is familiar, a ghost of a moment she once lived through.
"I don't really see you that way."
The words come again, flat and final, like a door shutting in her face.
Yuuta clenches her jaw, swallowing down the bitter taste that rises in her throat. "...It was stupid."
Her younger self tilts her head, the book in her hands dangling at her side. Her eyes are wide, searching, curious in a way only children can be. "Was it?"
Yuuta doesn't answer.
The school hallway around them warps, shifting like something out of a fever dream. The lockers twist into mirror shards, each fragment catching glimpses of her past.
She sees herself in them-alone, always alone.
One shard shows her at fourteen, clutching a handwritten confession letter behind her back, heart pounding as she rehearsed her words.
Another flickers to sixteen-standing motionless as he spoke, her fingers curled so tightly into her sleeves that her nails nearly pierced the fabric.
A third shows her at seventeen, staring at her reflection in a classroom window, eyes red but refusing to let the tears fall.
A third shows her at seventeen, staring at her reflection in a classroom window, eyes red but refusing to let the tears fall.
"I don't really see you that way."
She had laughed. Forced a smile. Said it was fine. It wasn't.
The mirrors shift again, forming a path. At the end of it, her teenage self leans against a wall, arms crossed, smirking like she's already figured it all out.
"We got over it, though, right?"
Yuuta exhales, staring at the reflection of a girl who used to be her.
"Yeah."
But even now, she isn't sure if she's trying to convince her past self-or herself.
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Yuuta does not look away.
"…We wanted to be happy."
Her younger self watches the flames rise.
"Then why weren't we?"
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The scene shifts again.
Now, she stands in a classroom bathed in golden light, the warm glow of the late afternoon sun streaming through the windows. Dust motes swirl in the air, caught between reality and memory. The scent of chalk lingers, and faint murmurs of old conversations hover in the silence-words spoken long ago, forever trapped in these walls.
Her eighteen-year-old self sits at a desk, one leg crossed over the other, idly flipping through a notebook filled with hurried scribbles and notes, the ink smudged from sleepless nights.
"You remember this?" Her younger self doesn't look up, voice steady, as if she already knows the answer.
Yuuta swallows. "Yeah."
The pages in the notebook begin to turn by themselves, faster and faster-grades, schedules, plans, goals written in neat handwriting, only to be crossed out and rewritten over and over again.
"Work hard. Study harder. Get into the best university. Secure the future."
The words flash by like a mantra, drilled into her mind.
The conversations return-whispers from the past, spoken by voices that were never meant to last.
"Yuuta, you're smart, but you need to apply yourself more."
"Top ten again? Not good enough. Keep pushing."
"Do you even know what you're doing this for?"
"If you slow down now, someone else will take your place."
"You have potential. But potential means nothing if you waste it."
The weight of those words still lingers, pressing against her chest.
The wind outside picks up, rattling the windows. The pages in the notebook turn violently, blurring into nothing but motion-until they stop.
Her younger self finally looks at her, eyes sharp yet tired, filled with something resembling understanding.
"We worked so hard."
Yuuta steps closer, hesitating. "And for what?"
The girl at the desk leans back, studying her as if she is the enigma here.
"Because if we stopped, we'd have to face the fact that we had no idea what we actually wanted."
The wind howls, stronger now, tearing through the classroom.
Every page of the notebook flips at once.
Then, they burn.
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The fire fades, replaced by a dim glow-soft candlelight flickering against old, familiar walls. The scent of wax and warm paper lingers, blending with the faint crispness of autumn air sneaking through a slightly open window.
Now, she is in a dorm room-her dorm room.
It is familiar, painfully so. The neatly stacked textbooks on the desk, the discarded coffee cups, the unmade bed. A small plant sits by the window, slightly wilted but still alive, much like the girl who once lived here.
And there, sitting on that bed, is her twenty-year-old self.
This version of her is different. Not bitter, not lost-just... tired.
Across from her, lounging on a chair with an easy smile, is Renji.
Yuuta freezes.
Her twenty-year-old self doesn't even glance at her. Instead, she exhales, almost amused. "It was good, wasn't it?"
Renji chuckles, leaning back, stretching his arms behind his head. "You say that like I'm dead."
Yuuta's throat tightens. "Aren't you?"
Her younger self finally looks up, dark circles under her eyes, but something softer in her gaze. "No." Her fingers ghost over the edge of the notebook on her lap. "He just left."
Renji tilts his head, thoughtful. "That's worse, isn't it?"
The dorm room begins to blur, the edges unraveling like ink dissolving in water.
Yuuta forces herself to breathe. "Why are you here?"
Renji shrugs, nonchalant. "You're the one dreaming."
Silence.
The candles flicker, their glow stretching shadows across the walls.
Her twenty-year-old self sighs, running a hand through her hair. "You know, I used to wait."
Yuuta stiffens. She knows exactly what comes next.
"Wait for messages that never came, wait for doors that never opened." Her younger self smiles, but it's small, wistful. "Wait for someone to turn back."
Renji looks at her, gaze unreadable. "And?"
Her younger self looks at Yuuta now. "This time, she lets him go."
The words echo.
This time, she lets him go.
Renji exhales, standing up. "You always were stubborn."
Yuuta swallows. "And you always ran away."
Renji smirks, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Well." He tilts his head toward the door. "Guess it's time."
There is a knock.
It is gentle, almost hesitant. A voice follows-familiar, warm, a tether to the present.
"Yuuta? Are you awake?"
She turns. The dorm is changing, shifting like a memory slipping through her fingers.
More voices now, murmurs of people who once passed through her life.
"Yuuta, wanna grab lunch?"
"You work too hard, you know that?"
"Hey, did you ever figure out what you wanna do after graduation?"
"Don't wait too long, okay?"
The candlelight flickers one last time.
Yuuta looks back at Renji. He is already walking away, his form fading into the unraveling dream.
Her younger self smiles, softer now, watching him leave.
And this time, she does not chase after him.
This time, she lets him go.
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The world twists again.
Now, she stands in a classroom-but not the one from before.
This is Roward Academy.
And in front of her her students.
Tarazune Akeshi. Tokusake Ren. Yamashiro Ren. Yukimiya Namakemono. Amane Lisa. Ichinose Honami. Kyoka Uzen. Aomori Touka. Wakaba Yuuki. Sakayanagi Mio.
The place made for the rejected.
She had dismissed them, at first. Thought they were just deflects-misfits thrown into the same pit.
She was wrong.
She watches, silent, as Tarazune Akeshi and Yamashiro Ren effortlessly take first and second place in the J.N.H.S.E.
She listens to their debates, their words sharper than knives, their minds faster than anyone she has ever known.
And this can be applied for everyone in that class.
And she realizes-
"They are nothing less than geniuses."
The world stills.
Her child self. Her teenage self. Her eighteen-year-old self. Her twenty-year-old self.
Thev all stand beside her now.
Watching.
Waiting.
Her twenty-year-old self exhales. "You spent your whole life running."
Her teenage self smirks. "Guess you finally stopped."
Her child self grins. "You're going to be happy, right?"
Yuuta closes her eyes. The dreamscape shifts one last time-
A warm classroom, the laughter of her students ringing in her ears.
She opens her eyes.
Smiles.
"Yeah."
And then-
Her mirror self steps forward.
She does not speak. She does not need to.
She just pulls Yuuta into a hug.
A warmth Yuuta had never let herself believe in.
A future waiting to be lived.
And when she wakes-
For the first time in her life, she is no longer afraid.
Now, with Renji by her side, everything seemed clearer.
The burden of unresolved feelings with Ren was lifted, and she finally understood what it meant to let go-not just of him, but of all the lingering doubts she had carried for so long.
She wasn't the same person she was when she first arrived at this point, lost and uncertain. Those days of hesitation, the nights spent wondering if she could ever be enough, had given way to a newfound strength. A sense of peace.
She had done the work. She had faced the parts of herself that once seemed insurmountable, had reconciled with her past, and was now ready. Ready to tackle the world with the clarity that only comes after healing.
The future-once an intimidating unknown-felt like an open door. And as she stood there, with a quiet smile tugging at her lips, she knew that whatever came next, she would face it with confidence.
Ready. Ready for whatever the future had in store for her.
••••••
Beneath the rising sun, far from Yuuta, a lone figure stood, a weary sigh escaping her lips.
"This... took more deaths than I ever anticipated."