The twins sat in silence, finishing the rest of their breakfast with the kind of truce that only exists until the next fight. The sound of a bus horn echoed from the front yard.
"The bus!" they both shouted in unison.
They grabbed their bags and bolted out the door. At the gate, they were already bickering about who should get on first.
"Move it, kids!" the bus driver barked.
Asher shoved Liam and jumped in first. Liam shot him a glare and scrambled in after.
The door slammed shut behind them as the bus pulled away—leaving the chaos of home behind, but carrying a whole new one down the road.
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The bus roared down the highway, its tires grinding against the wet asphalt. Rain had just stopped, leaving the roads slick and dangerous. The driver, distracted and weary, missed the stop sign ahead. The impact was sudden—a violent lurch as the bus slammed into a thick tree trunk with a sickening crunch of metal and shattering glass. Screams echoed in the air, then silence.
Inside, bodies lay crumpled. Many were injured; a few didn't make it.
Among them, Liam lay motionless, unconscious. Beside him, Asher sobbed, his face streaked with tears and blood. A gash on his head dripped crimson down onto Liam's pale face. "Liam… Liam, please wake up," Asher whispered desperately, shaking his brother gently. But Liam didn't move.
Sirens pierced the quiet aftermath, and soon paramedics arrived. Asher was relieved when he heard someone say Liam still had a pulse. They were rushed to the hospital, the medics doing their best to stabilize both boys.
At the hospital, the news was grim. Liam had survived but was in a deep coma with a critically damaged heart. Asher, however, had suffered irreversible brain damage. Scans confirmed the worst—he was brain dead. Machines kept his body alive, but his mind was gone.
The doctor gathered the parents into a small, sterile room. His voice was calm but heavy. "Are you their parents?"
"Yes," their father answered, voice hoarse.
"I'm very sorry," the doctor said, "Asher is brain dead. There's no chance of recovery. But… Liam's heart is failing. There is a chance—if we perform a transplant. Asher's heart could save Liam's life. It's a painful decision, I know."
The father clenched his jaw, torn between grief and love. "What about Asher?"
The doctor lowered his eyes. There was no answer.
After a long silence, the mother finally spoke, her voice trembling. "We agree to the heart transplant."
The hospital staff moved quickly. The operating room was prepped, surgeons scrubbed in. Asher was wheeled into the OR one last time, his hand still warm but lifeless. Liam, unconscious and pale, was brought in next.
The surgery was long, delicate, and precise. Hours passed before the lead surgeon stepped out with a tired nod. "The transplant was successful."
Higher Realm
But elsewhere, far beyond the physical realm, in a place untouched by time or life…
A flame danced endlessly in the void, shifting and flickering until it formed the shape of an 11-year-old boy. His hair was snowy white, streaked with strands of dark red. His eyes held no emotion as he raised his hand, summoning a floating book that flipped open on its own.
"This has gone far too long," the boy said, his voice distant and eerie. "No one has been able to entertain me."
An old man with eyes full of ancient wisdom bowed deeply. "B-but My Lord… Only one of the brothers has died. What of the other?"
The boy's eyes narrowed. "It doesn't matter. He will not be able to live either way."
And the book began to burn.
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Sayonara