---
The portal stood before them—stable, permanent, a doorway home.
Kaito stared at it, his empathy picking up the ambient emotions from the Earth side. Curiosity. Excitement. Apprehension. Normal human feelings from a world he'd left behind.
"You could go back," Celestia said softly. "All of you. The portal's stable. You could visit your families. See your old lives."
"We're dead there," Ren said. "Funerals held. Lives moved on. What would we even say?"
"The truth. That you survived. That you're alive in another world."
The five heroes looked at each other, the same question in everyone's eyes: *Do we want to go back?*
"I do," Himari said quietly. "I want to see Japan again. Visit my mother's grave. Tell her what happened."
"My siblings," Daichi added. "They were split up in foster care. I want to know if they're okay."
"I had online friends," Yuki said. "People who might have wondered what happened to Ghost_Code. I'd like to tell them."
Ren nodded slowly. "My sister. Yui. She saw me die. I want her to know it meant something."
All eyes turned to Kaito.
"The kid I saved," he said. "Ryu. He'd be what, seven now? I'd like to see that he's okay. That it was worth it."
"Then go," Celestia said. "Take a few days. Visit your old world. You've earned that."
---
**Tokyo, Japan - Earth**
They emerged from a smaller portal in a CERN facility that had partnered with the dimensional research project. Scientists greeted them, checked their biological signatures (still human, mostly), and cleared them for temporary return to Earth.
The paperwork was surreal. "Reason for visit: Checking on family after dimensional displacement." As if that was a normal form field now.
They split up, each heading to their own corner of Japan.
**Himari** took a train to her old neighborhood. Everything looked smaller than she remembered. The buildings, the streets, even the people. Or maybe she'd just grown.
Her mother's grave was in a modest cemetery. The headstone read: *Nakamura Akiko - Beloved Mother - May She Find Peace.*
Himari knelt, her hands trembling. "Hi, Mom. I'm... I'm sorry it took so long to visit. I've been in another world. Literally."
She laughed through tears. "You'd love it there. The music is different but beautiful. I performed for a thousand people. I healed plague victims with my songs. I found purpose."
"I'm happy now, Mom. Not the hollow happiness I faked before. Real happiness. I have friends. People who need me. A place where I matter."
"I'm sorry I gave up that night. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough. But that weakness led me somewhere I could be strong. Somewhere I could help people the way I couldn't help you."
She stayed for an hour, singing softly. The songs her mother had taught her, transformed by magic and experience into something new.
When she left, she felt lighter. Not healed—grief didn't work that way—but at peace.
---
**Daichi** tracked down his siblings through social services. Kenji, now sixteen, was in a group home. Yuka, thirteen, had been adopted by a kind family. Mari, eleven, was still in foster care, struggling.
He visited Kenji first. The group home let him in after he explained—*I'm his brother, I was dead but I'm better now, interdimensional travel, it's complicated.*
Kenji stared at him like seeing a ghost. "You... you died. I saw you die."
"I did. Then I got better. In another world. It's a long story."
They talked for hours. Daichi explained everything—the summoning, the powers, the war, the peace. Kenji listened with wide eyes, disbelief slowly transforming into wonder.
"So you're, like, a superhero now?"
"Something like that."
"That's... that's actually kind of awesome."
"The dying part wasn't awesome."
"Yeah, but the coming back and having magic powers part is pretty cool."
Daichi visited Yuka next. She was thriving—her adoptive parents were warm and loving, giving her stability he'd never been able to provide. She cried when she saw him, but they were happy tears.
"You're okay," she kept saying. "You're really okay."
"I'm okay. And you're okay. That's what matters."
Mari was harder. She'd been in three foster homes, struggling with attachment issues and trauma. When she saw Daichi, she didn't cry or smile. She just looked at him with hollow eyes and said, "You left us."
"I died protecting you. I didn't have a choice."
"You left. And we were alone. And nobody kept us together like you promised."
It broke his heart. But he understood. She was eleven and had been abandoned by everyone. His return didn't fix that.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so, so sorry. But I'm here now. And I'll visit when I can. The portal is stable. I can come back."
"Until you die again?"
"I'll try not to."
She didn't forgive him. But she let him hug her. And that was something.
---
**Yuki** went to her old apartment. Her parents had kept it exactly as it was—a shrine to their dead daughter. Her computer, her notes, her games. All frozen in time.
She powered up her old system and logged into her accounts. Ghost_Code had messages—hundreds of them. From online friends wondering where she'd gone. From clients asking about projects. From people who'd cared, in their digital way.
She composed a message to her Discord server:
*Hey everyone. Ghost_Code here. I know I disappeared. Long story short: I died, got resurrected in a fantasy world, became a hero, saved some kingdoms, broke a magical system, and bridged dimensions. I'm okay now. Just wanted to let you know I didn't ghost you on purpose (pun intended). - Yuki*
The responses came quickly. Disbelief, then humor, then genuine relief. Her online family had mourned her. Now they celebrated her survival, even if they didn't fully believe the fantasy world part.
She visited her parents. That was harder.
They'd aged years in the eighteen months since her death. Grief had hollowed them out. When she knocked on their door, her mother fainted.
The reunion was tearful, overwhelming, complicated. They wanted her to stay, to return to Earth, to give up the dangerous other world.
She explained that she couldn't. That she had responsibilities. That Elaria was her home now.
"But you're our daughter," her father said.
"I know. And I love you. But I'm also a hero in another world. People depend on me." She showed them pictures on a tablet—the barrier network, the joint research facility, her friends. "This is my life now. I can visit. But I can't stay."
They didn't understand. But they accepted it. Because the alternative was losing her completely again.
---
**Ren** stood outside his old house. The perfect suburban home with the perfect lawn. His father's car in the driveway.
His hands clenched into fists. He'd died here. Died protecting Yui from their father's rage. And now he was back.
He rang the doorbell. His father answered. The man had aged too, lines around his eyes, gray in his hair. He stared at Ren in shock.
"You're dead. I watched you die."
"You killed me. Then I got better."
Ren pushed past him into the house. "Where's Yui?"
"She's... she's not here. She moved out. Lives with her boyfriend now."
"Good. She got away from you."
His father's face twisted with anger—the same expression Ren remembered from every beating. "How dare you come into my house and—"
"STOP." Ren's command power activated. His father froze mid-sentence.
"I came here to tell you something," Ren said quietly. "I forgive you. Not because you deserve it, but because carrying that hate was destroying me. You're a weak, broken man who hurt children because you couldn't face your own failures. I pity you."
He released the command. His father stumbled, confused.
"Stay away from Yui. If I hear you've contacted her, I'll come back. And next time, I won't be forgiving."
He left. Visited Yui at her apartment. She screamed, cried, hugged him so hard he couldn't breathe.
"I thought you were dead. I thought I'd watched you die for me."
"I did. Then I found a place where dying meant something. Where protecting people makes a difference."
They talked all night. About the abuse they'd survived. About her life now—working, studying, building something new. About his life in Elaria—the war, the peace, the responsibility.
"Don't come back here," she said finally. "Not for me. Not for him. You found something good there. Don't give it up for ghosts."
"You're not a ghost."
"I'm your past. That place is your future. Stay there. Be happy. That's what I want for you."
She was wise beyond her nineteen years. Trauma did that—forced you to grow up too fast.
---
**Kaito** was last. He found the address through public records. The family who'd lost a father, who'd gained a living son because Kaito had pushed him out of the way.
He knocked on their door. A woman answered—older than he remembered, but he recognized her. The mother from that night.
"Yes?"
"Hi. My name is Kaito Yamada. I... I'm the one who saved your son. Ryu. A year and a half ago."
Her eyes widened. "You're dead. You died saving him."
"I got better. It's complicated. Is Ryu here?"
She called her son. He appeared—seven years old now, bright-eyed and alive. He didn't remember Kaito's face, but he knew the story.
"You're the hero," Ryu said with certainty. "You saved me from the truck."
"I did. I wanted to check on you. Make sure you're okay."
"I'm okay! I'm in second grade now. I can read chapter books. And I want to be a hero too when I grow up, just like you!"
Kaito felt tears threatening. This. This is what it had been for. This living, laughing child who had a future because Kaito had made one split-second choice.
"You'll be a great hero," Kaito said. "But remember—heroes aren't just people with powers. They're people who choose to help others when they can. You don't need magic for that."
"Can you tell me about the other world? Is it real?"
Kaito sat with Ryu for an hour, telling carefully edited stories about Elaria. About dragons and magic and friends who stood together. Ryu listened with wonder, asking endless questions.
When it was time to leave, Ryu hugged him. "Thank you for saving me. I'll make it worth it. I promise."
"You already have," Kaito said. "Just by being alive."
---
**That Evening - Tokyo Tower**
The five heroes met at Tokyo Tower, looking out over the city they'd come from. It glowed with electric light, modern and mundane and beautiful in its normalcy.
"It's strange," Himari said. "Being back. I thought I'd feel like I belonged here again. But I don't."
"This world is too small now," Yuki agreed. "After experiencing magic, fighting wars, bridging dimensions... normal life feels constraining."
"My siblings are okay," Daichi said. "Not perfect, but okay. I thought I'd feel responsible for them still, but... they have their own lives now. I'm not needed here."
"Yui's happy," Ren added. "She's free. That's all I wanted. My purpose here is done."
"Ryu is alive and wonderful," Kaito finished. "That kid is going to do amazing things. With or without me."
They stood in silence, five people who'd died in this world and been reborn in another.
"We don't belong here anymore," Ren said. "Do we?"
"No," they agreed.
"But that's okay," Himari added. "We belong somewhere else. We have people waiting for us. A queen who trusts us. Friends across two worlds. Work that matters."
"We're not from here anymore," Yuki said. "We're from there. Elaria is home now."
"Strange," Daichi laughed. "The place we were dragged to against our will became the place we chose to stay."
"Not that strange," Kaito said. "Home isn't where you're born. It's where you're needed. Where you matter. Where your friends are."
"Sappy," Ren teased. "But accurate."
They stayed on Tokyo Tower until dawn, watching the city wake up. This world would be fine without them. It had billions of people. It would keep turning.
But Elaria needed them. And they needed Elaria.
When the portal reopened, they stepped through without hesitation.
Returning home.
---
**Lumina, Elaria**
Celestia was waiting on the other side with the others who'd become family. Malachar. Grim. The demon mages. Gareth. So many people whose lives had intertwined with theirs.
"Welcome back," Celestia said. "How was Earth?"
"Small," Ren said. "But we needed to see it one last time."
"Are you staying?"
"We're staying," they said in unison.
"Good. Because there's a new crisis brewing in the Northern Territories and we could use your help."
"Of course there is," Yuki sighed. "Can we have one month without a crisis?"
"Apparently not."
"Fine. Briefing in an hour?"
"Thirty minutes. It's kind of urgent."
The five heroes looked at each other and laughed. This was their life now. Crisis to crisis, problem to problem, always needed, never bored.
It was exhausting.
It was meaningful.
It was home.
---