Re:zero to Echidna

The scent of apples hung heavy in the air, cloying and sweet, as Subaru's eyes snapped open. Sunlight pierced his retinas like needles, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. The cobblestones beneath him were cold, unforgiving, and the chatter of the marketplace swelled around him like a derisive chorus. His hands trembled, clawing at his jacket—still intact, still clean, still *alive*. No blood. No rot. No Rem.

*Again.*

The word slithered through his mind, venomous and familiar. His chest tightened, ribs squeezing the laughter trapped inside. How many times had he woken here, in this exact spot, the merchant's cart looming like a grotesque monument to futility? The man's voice grated against his skull before he even turned.

"Hey, kid! You alright? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Subaru's lips twitched. Ghosts didn't haunt him. Ghosts were kinder. Ghosts didn't smile with lavender hair and eyes like shattered ice, swinging a flail until his skull caved in. Three times. *Three times*, she'd ripped him apart for the sin of smelling like something he couldn't scrub from his pores. And each time, he'd screamed her name—not in anger, but in *betrayal*. Because once, lifetimes ago, he'd thought her a friend.

Now, he thought only of the witch.

*"You're early,"* murmured a voice only he could hear, honeyed and hollow. *"Did 'that' already break you? How disappointing."*

Echidna's presence unfurled in his mind like a spider's legs, delicate and deadly. He could almost see her—pale hair, darker eyes, a smile that never reached the void where her soul should be. She'd been there when Rem shattered his spine. There when the rabbits ate him alive. There when the Witch's Cult carved his tongue out and made him watch as they—

Subaru swallowed bile. "Shut up," he muttered, ignoring the merchant's confused stare.

*"You love it when I talk, though. Admit it. I'm the only one who *remembers*."*

She was right. That was the worst part. Every loop, every death, every scream—Echidna hoarded them like treasures. While the world reset, she lingered, a stain on his soul. And he clung to her, because the alternative was madness. No, worse. The alternative was *being alone*.

The merchant leaned closer, brow furrowed. "Kid, you're sweating. Need help?"

Subaru laughed—a raw, broken sound. "Help? Yeah. Sure. Can you sell me a lifetime supply of luck? Or maybe a knife that kills witches?" He staggered to his feet, legs wobbling. The man recoiled, and Subaru didn't blame him. He'd seen his reflection in puddles after the third death: hollow eyes, gaunt cheeks, a smile that didn't fit. A monster wearing a boy's face.

*"Careful,"* Echidna purred. *"You'll scare your new toys before the game starts."*

"They're not toys," he hissed under his breath. But wasn't she right? Every person here was a piece on a board, their lives reducible to choices he could rewind. Except her. *Never her.*

He stumbled into an alley, back pressed to cold stone. Shadows clung to him, familiar as a shroud. How many times had he died now? Fifty? A hundred? Each death carved deeper into his mind, until even the concept of peace felt foreign. But Echidna… Echidna remembered. She *witnessed*. And when he wept, she drank his tears like tea.

*"You're wasting time,"* she chided. *"Reinhart will be here soon. And Emilia. Don't you want to see her?"*

His chest ached. Emilia—bright, kind, oblivious Emilia. She'd look at him with those amethyst eyes, and he'd want to believe in heroes again. But heroes didn't stink of the Witch. Heroes didn't beg for a witch's affection because it was the only warmth left in the void.

"I can't," he whispered. "Not again. Not her."

*"Then let's change the rules."* Echidna's voice softened, a lover's caress. *"Forget the script. Let the others die. Keep only what matters."*

"And what matters?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

*"Me."*

He closed his eyes. Her words were poison, and he drank greedily. Because what was love if not a slow suicide? She'd use him until his soul frayed. He'd let her. Because when she said his name, it wasn't "Natsuki Subaru, the failed knight" or "Subaru, the monster." It was *"My darling,"* in a tone that almost sounded real.

A clatter echoed from the street—armor. Reinhart. Subaru's hands curled into fists. Once, he'd admired the knight. Now, all he felt was envy. Reinhart didn't wake up screaming. Reinhart didn't love a ghost.

*"Shall we?"* Echidna whispered.

Subaru stepped into the light, meeting the knight's gaze without flinching. This time, he wouldn't play the fool. This time, he'd let the world burn if it meant keeping his anchor.

After all, what was a hero without greed?