๏ธถ ยทฬฉอโ อ ใเญจใ ๊ฐ ใ๐ค ใ๊ฑ ใเญง ใ อ โ ยทฬฉอ๏ธถ อ
Happy birthday to me! ูฉ(หแห*)ู โก
I have been nineteen years old for over five years now.
Kusuo reset the timeline again. He always does.
Volcano. Lava. Japan would be gone if he didn't.
I've run the calculations myself.
There is no other solution.
But I am tired of being nineteen.
I have earned my crow's feet. I have earned the deeper grooves under my eyes from sleepless nights in the lab.
I have earned the calluses on my hands from experiments that almost worked, from failures that taught me more than successes ever could.
I have earned the right to be older.
But Kusuo resets the year, and I am nineteen again.
Every birthday is the same.
Every candle is the same.
Every wish is the sameโnot for powers, not for victory, not even for his attention anymore.
Just for time. Real time.
The kind that moves forward and stays moved.
The kind that would let me be twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two.
The kind that would let me grow up alongside him instead of circling the same drain every June.
He doesn't know I remember.
He thinks the reset wipes everyone's memories. It does. Mostly.
But I built a device years agoโsmall, implanted, undetectableโthat preserves my neural patterns through each iteration.
I remember every birthday I never got to keep.
I remember every year that was taken from me.
I am nineteen years old forever because my little brother is trying to save the world.
And I can't even be angry about it. Because I would have done the same thing.
P.S. If you're reading this, Kusuo: I know you'll reset again. I know you'll take this post with it. I know I'll wake up on July 16th and be nineteen again and have to write something new because the old one never existed. But I'm writing it anyway. Because some things deserve to be said. Even if no one remembers.
P.P.S. Don't feel guilty. You're saving millions. I'm just... tired. There's a difference.
