Midnight.
Tokyo slept under a blanket of silver clouds, and the world above shimmered with unspoken danger.
Inside Reo's dimly lit room, gadgets hummed softly, casting ghost-like shadows against the walls. Doraemon stood beside the bed, tension carved into every part of his robotic frame.
"You'll only have ten minutes inside," he said quietly. "The Dream Trigger links your minds through her REM cycle. Too long, and your consciousness could fragment."
Reo lay on the bed, expression calm but fierce. "Ten minutes is more than enough."
"Are you sure?" Doraemon asked. "This isn't a normal mind. It's Yua's… and his now."
Reo smirked faintly. "Good. Then I'll meet them both where they least expect me."
He slid the Dream Trigger onto his finger. A flash of blue.
Then silence.
His breathing slowed.
And the world shattered.
---
The Dreamscape
Reo opened his eyes.
The sky was wrong.
It bled crimson and violet, swirling with clouds that whispered names he had long buried. Beneath his feet, the ground cracked like broken glass—each shard reflecting moments from Yua's life.
Her first audition.
Her mother's death.
The night she met Reo.
He exhaled.
"She's somewhere in here," he muttered. "And so is he."
He took a step—and the world warped.
---
He was in a hallway now.
Endless, elegant. Lined with golden-framed portraits of Yua's past. But every face in every frame had been replaced.
With his own.
Reo.
Grinning, smirking, screaming, crying—dozens of versions of him stared back.
Then, from the far end of the hallway, footsteps.
And laughter.
Caius.
"Brave, aren't you?" his voice echoed through the hall. "You came crawling into my palace. Tell me, Reo… do you still believe in saving people?"
Reo didn't answer.
Instead, he ran.
The hallway stretched unnaturally, but he kept going—boots striking against glass memories, eyes locked forward.
And finally—
A door.
White. Simple. Flickering.
He kicked it open.
---
Inside the Room
Yua sat in a chair, head down, chains made of light wrapped around her wrists. Her eyes were closed, her lips whispering something broken. Around her, a theater stage—empty audience, red velvet curtains torn and dancing in invisible wind.
Reo stepped inside.
And the room groaned.
Caius materialized on the stage like smoke, his form hovering behind Yua, fingers brushing her shoulder.
"She's quite the canvas," he said softly. "So many insecurities. So much guilt. All it took was a whisper, and she let me in."
"Get out," Reo growled.
Caius chuckled. "You came to rescue her? How noble. But you know what happens to saviors in stories like ours?"
He stepped forward.
"They die."
The stage cracked open beneath Reo's feet. Flames licked up from the void, and shadows surged forward—twisted puppets wearing masks of his old classmates: Gian, Suneo, even Shizuka.
Each bore a label across their chest:
"Nobita the Failure."
Reo's eyes gleamed. He summoned a sword of memory—an image from Yua's dreams of him. A knight in ink-black armor.
"Then let's see if I die with purpose," he said coldly.
And the battle began.
---
Dream Battle
It was nothing like reality.
Here, thoughts bled into weapons. Emotions twisted the environment.
Reo cut through the first wave of shadow-puppets, their laughter screeching like metal. Caius raised illusions—flashing images of Reo's past lives, failures, doubts—but Reo's mind was steel.
"I'm not Nobita," he whispered, slashing through them. "I'm not the man I used to be. I've been weak. I've been cruel. But I have purpose now."
The flames parted.
And Yua looked up.
Her eyes shimmered with recognition.
"...Reo?"
He reached her, breaking the chains with a thought.
She fell into his arms, trembling.
"You came."
"Always," he said.
But behind them, Caius was not finished.
His form morphed into something inhuman—a black, swirling god of fractured timelines and corrupted dreams.
"This is just a taste," he hissed. "You've touched the void now. And it will touch back."
He lunged.
But Reo threw himself and Yua backward—
—and they fell.
---
Reality
Reo's eyes snapped open, sweat pouring down his face.
Beside him, Yua gasped awake in the hospital bed Doraemon had moved her to, her hand still clutching his.
Tears filled her eyes.
"You found me," she whispered.
He pulled her close, forehead against hers.
"I told you," he said. "No one rewrites your story. Not while I'm alive."
---