Hiro walked down the white hall.
[Same hall. Same lights. But everything felt wrong. Like a picture with colors missing.]
He remembered this place. The Garden. Where children trained to fight. Where he first saw her — [red horns, sharp smile, licking her lips like the world was candy.]
But that memory was from before. From another life. From a timeline where Zero Two existed.
'She was not here,' he thought. 'This world has no red.'
"016!"
[Hiro turned. A girl ran toward him — short hair, bright eyes, face full of worry.]
Naomi.
[She grabbed his arm. Small fingers, warm grip. Not the grip he remembered. Not rough. Not tapping secret codes against his palm.]
"You okay?" [she asked, tilting her head.] "Everyone's talking about your sync test. They said you... you stopped responding. Like you were somewhere else."
"I'm fine," [Hiro said. His voice was small. Child voice. It felt strange in his mouth.]
Naomi frowned. [She didn't believe him. But she smiled anyway, the way children smile when they don't know what else to do.]
"Come on," [she said, pulling him.] "The others are in the common room. They want to see you."
The common room was bright.
[Big windows. White walls. Children sitting at tables, talking, laughing, playing games that taught them to be soldiers without knowing it.]
Hiro stopped in the doorway.
[He saw them. All of them. But wrong. Younger. Unbroken.]
Goro — [sitting with a book, glasses too big for his face. In Hiro's memory, Goro was tall and strong and stood beside Ichigo like a shield. Now he was just a boy with messy hair and worried eyes.]
Zorome — [loud, bragging, pushing another kid's shoulder. No scars. No fear. No pilot's pride.]
Miku — [laughing at something Zorome said. Pink hair bright under the lights. She didn't look tired. Didn't look like someone who had watched friends die.]
Kokoro — [quiet, reading, soft smile. No baby in her arms. No Mitsuru beside her. No memories of love that cost too much.]
Futoshi — [eating. Always eating. Round face happy. No hunger that food couldn't fix.]
Ikuno — [by the window, alone, watching clouds. In Hiro's memory, she was brave and sad and found something real before the end. Now she was just a girl who didn't fit in.]
And Ichigo —
[She stood near the center, talking to a caretaker. Blue hair, serious face, already leading even though she was just a child.]
She turned. [Saw him. Her eyes went soft. Worried.]
"Hiro," [she said. Not 016. Hiro. She used his name.]
But it felt wrong. [In his memory, Ichigo said his name with weight. With history. With the sound of someone who watched him fall and couldn't catch him.]
This Ichigo said it like a label. Like something written on a file.
"You're awake," [she walked closer, small hands reaching for his shoulders.] "Good. Don't scare us like that. Sync tests are hard, but you'll pass next time. You always do."
'No,' Hiro thought. 'I never pass. That's why she chose me. That's why I'm hers.'
But he said nothing. [Just nodded. Small boy nod. Child who didn't understand why his chest hurt.]
"Who were you talking to?" [Zorome asked, pushing closer.] "In the test? They said you were whispering. Something weird."
Hiro looked at him. [Zorome's face was open. No walls. No anger. No need to prove himself.]
"Nobody," [Hiro said.]
"Must've been a dream," [Miku laughed, spinning a pencil.] "016 dreams weird. Probably why he can't sync."
"Don't be mean," [Naomi said, stepping between them.]
"I'm not mean! I'm honest!" [Miku stuck out her tongue.]
The others laughed. [Easy laughter. Children who didn't know war. Who didn't know what FRANXX really cost.]
Hiro watched them. [His heart squeezed.]
In his memory, these faces were older. Scarred. Some dead. Goro's hand on Ichigo's shoulder at a funeral. Zorome's voice breaking when he couldn't save someone. Kokoro holding a baby that would never know its father. Futoshi crying into Ikuno's hair.
They had suffered together. Become family. Become more than numbers.
But here — [here they were just children. Playing. Safe. Happy.]
And he was alone in his memory.
'They don't know me,' he thought. 'Not really. Not the me that died with her. Not the me that grew horns and broke the sky.'
He was a ghost wearing his own young skin. A boy from a dead timeline walking through a world that never made room for what he lost.
"Hey," [Goro said, approaching. Book in hand, glasses slipping down his nose.] "You look... different. Like you saw something."
Hiro looked at him. [Goro's eyes were kind. Too kind. They didn't know what kindness cost yet.]
"I saw..." [Hiro stopped.]
What could he say? 'I saw the end of the world. I saw us become soldiers. I saw her die. I saw me die. I saw light that ate everything and a voice that said "Darling" like it was the only word.'
They would think he was crazy. [Or sick. Or broken from the sync test.]
"I saw a bad dream," [he said instead.]
Goro nodded. [Serious. Believing.]
"Dreams can feel real," [he said, pushing his glasses up.] "But they're just... brain stuff. Memories mixing up. Not real."
'Not real,' Hiro thought. 'But her hand was warm. Her voice was real. The way she said my name — that was the most real thing I ever felt.'
"Yeah," [Hiro said, looking away.] "Just a dream."
Ichigo sat beside him. [Close. Too close. Not close enough.]
"Hiro," [she said, voice soft.] "If something's wrong, you can tell me. We're partners. Maybe not in sync, but... we're friends. Right?"
'Partners,' he thought. The word hurt. In his timeline, Ichigo was his first partner. Before Zero Two. Before everything. They failed together. Grew apart. Found their real matches.
But here — [here she was offering partnership like a gift. Like something simple. Like something that wouldn't break them both.]
"Right," [he said.]
She smiled. [Bright. Happy. Young.]
Hiro smiled back. [It felt like lying. It felt like wearing a mask made of paper.]
Later. Alone in the hall.
[Hiro leaned against the wall. Small body tired. Mind too full.]
He heard footsteps. [Turned.]
Dr. Franxx — [but young. Not the mad old man with the mechanical arm and the laugh like broken glass. This Franxx had dark hair, clean coat, eyes that were sharp but not yet cruel.]
He stopped. [Looked at Hiro. Really looked.]
"016," [he said, voice curious.] "You asked about an unknown designation this morning. Zero Two."
Hiro stiffened. [Every muscle tight. Every memory alert.]
"Who is she?" [Franxx asked. Not demanding. Interested. Like a scientist seeing something unexpected in his data.]
"I..." [Hiro's voice shook. Small. Scared.] "I don't know. Just... a name. From a dream."
Franxx watched him. [Long. Silent.]
Then he smiled. [Not kind. Not cruel. Something in between.]
"Dreams are interesting things," [he said, pulling out a small notebook, scribbling something.] "Sometimes they leak through. From places we can't measure. From times that didn't happen. From bonds that..."
He stopped. [Closed the notebook.]
"Rest, 016," [he said, walking away.] "But if you dream of her again — of red, of horns, of Darling — tell me. I'm... curious."
Hiro watched him go. [Heart pounding.]
'He knows,' Hiro thought. 'Or suspects. Or wants to know. But I can't trust him. In my timeline, he made us weapons. He made her. Maybe here, he's different. Maybe here, he's worse.'
He pushed off the wall. [Walked toward the garden outside — real garden, with dirt and plants, not the white room they called Garden.]
The sun was warm. [The sky was blue. No cracks. No static. No purple threat hanging overhead.]
But Hiro felt cold.
He looked at his hands. [Small. Empty.]
In his memory, these hands held hers. Fought beside hers. Died with hers.
Now they held nothing.
"Zero Two," [he whispered to the wind.]
[The wind didn't answer. The sun kept shining. The world stayed peaceful and wrong.]
But somewhere — [in the static, in the space between, in the place where red should be] — something stirred. Something reached. Something called back with a voice he couldn't hear yet.
Hiro closed his eyes. [Tears again. Always tears.]
'I'm here,' he thought. 'In a world that doesn't know you. In a peace built on your absence. But I'm still looking. Still reaching. Still remembering.'
'Find me,' he whispered in his heart. 'Please. Before I forget what red looks like. Before this white world eats the last of you in me.'
[The garden was quiet. The children played inside. The sun moved across the sky.]
And Hiro — [small, alone, carrying a dead timeline in his child's chest] — waited.