The first thing I noticed wasn't the sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows, or the fact that my ceiling looked completely different.
It was the silence in my head.
For the first time in months, maybe years, that constant buzz of anxiety and self-doubt had simply... stopped. Like someone had reached into my brain and turned off a radio that had been playing static at full volume.
I sat up slowly, blinking in confusion.
This wasn't my room.
The walls were cream-colored instead of the dingy white of my apartment. Sunlight poured through large windows that definitely hadn't existed yesterday, illuminating a space that felt lived-in but somehow brand new. A desk sat in the corner with textbooks I didn't recognize, and a calendar on the wall showed dates that made no sense.
April 15th, 2024.
But it was already June in the real world. Wasn't it?
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and that's when I felt it—something cool and smooth against my wrist. Looking down, I found a silver bracelet wrapped around my left arm, so thin it was almost invisible. Delicate engravings covered its surface, symbols that seemed to shift when I wasn't looking directly at them.
When had I put this on?
I tried to remove it, but there was no clasp, no opening. It wasn't tight, but it wouldn't slide off either. Like it had grown there.
Weird.
Standing up, I caught my reflection in a mirror I definitely didn't own. Same face, same messy black hair, same unremarkable features. But something was different. My posture, maybe? The way I held myself? I looked... less defeated.
A knock on the door made me jump.
"Yuuma! You're gonna be late for your first day!"
First day of what?
The voice was male, cheerful, and completely unfamiliar. Yet somehow, I knew I was supposed to respond.
"Uh... coming!" I called back, surprised by how natural it sounded.
I moved toward a closet I was somehow certain would be there, finding it stocked with clothes that fit perfectly but weren't mine. A school uniform hung prominently—navy blazer, white shirt, gray slacks. The kind of outfit I'd seen in anime but never worn.
The name embroidered on the chest pocket made my heart skip: Sakura University, Tokyo Campus.
Tokyo. I'd never been to Tokyo.
But as I pulled on the uniform, muscle memory guided my movements like I'd done this a hundred times before. My hands knew exactly how to knot the tie, where to find my bag, which textbooks to grab.
What is happening to me?
The hallway outside my room buzzed with activity. Students rushed past carrying books and chatting animatedly, all wearing the same uniform I'd just put on. The building felt massive—tall ceilings, wide corridors, the kind of architecture you'd see at a prestigious university.
"There you are!"
A guy about my height jogged up, grinning widely. Spiky brown hair, athletic build, the kind of natural confidence I'd always envied. He clapped me on the shoulder like we'd been friends forever.
"Ready for Professor Daizen's philosophy class? I heard he makes freshmen cry on the first day."
Professor Daizen. The name felt familiar, though I couldn't place why.
"Yeah, totally ready," I heard myself say, though I had no idea what I was ready for.
The guy—Taichi, I realized, though I didn't know how I knew that—laughed. "You're such a liar, Yuuma. Come on, let's grab the others before all the good seats are taken."
The others?
But before I could ask, Taichi was already pulling me down the hallway, chattering about something that had happened yesterday—yesterday that I couldn't remember but somehow felt like I'd lived.
We stopped at a classroom door where three more guys were waiting. One tall and serious-looking with glasses, one shorter with messy black hair who was buried in a book, and one with perfectly styled hair who was checking his reflection in his phone screen.
"About time," the tall one said, adjusting his glasses. "Ren Shinozaki," my brain supplied automatically, though I'd never seen him before in my life.
The one with the book looked up and smiled. "Morning, Yuuma." *Kei Hoshino. Quiet, thoughtful, the kind of person who noticed everything.
The guy with styled hair grinned and finger-gunned at me. "Looking sharp today, buddy." Kouta Minami. Flirt, comedian, heart of gold.
These were my friends. I knew it with absolute certainty, even though it was impossible.
"You guys ready to get your minds blown by existential philosophy?" Taichi asked, bouncing on his heels.
"Speak for yourself," Ren replied dryly. "Some of us actually read the syllabus."
"Show-off," Kouta muttered, but he was smiling.
As we filed into the classroom, I felt something I'd forgotten existed: belonging. These guys weren't just being polite or tolerating my presence. They genuinely seemed to enjoy having me around.
How is this real?
The lecture hall was packed, students filling every available seat. Professor Daizen stood at the front—a middle-aged man with wild gray hair and eyes that seemed to see straight through you.
"Welcome to Philosophy 101," he began, his voice carrying easily through the room. "Today we're going to discuss the nature of reality. Specifically, how do we know what's real and what's merely a construction of our own minds?"
My bracelet grew warm against my wrist.
"Consider this," Professor Daizen continued, beginning to pace. "You wake up tomorrow morning, and everything in your life is exactly as you've always dreamed it would be. Perfect friends, perfect opportunities, perfect circumstances. Would you question it? Or would you simply accept the gift?"
The warmth from the bracelet intensified, spreading up my arm.
"Descartes said 'I think, therefore I am.' But what if thinking itself can be deceived? What if the very act of questioning reality is what makes something real?"
Around me, students scribbled notes. Taichi looked confused. Ren was nodding thoughtfully. Kei had stopped writing and was staring at the professor with intense focus.
But I barely heard any of it, because that's when I saw her.
She sat three rows ahead and to the left, brownish-blonde hair catching the light like silk. Even from behind, she was stunning—the kind of beautiful that made you forget how to breathe.
As if she could feel my stare, she turned around.
Our eyes met.
The world stopped.
Her face was delicate but strong, with high cheekbones and lips that looked like they were hiding secrets. But it was her eyes that hit me like a physical force—dark brown, expressive, filled with an emotion I couldn't name but recognized completely.
She looked at me like she was seeing a ghost. Or a miracle.
My bracelet pulsed once, warm and bright, and for a moment I could have sworn I saw it glow through my sleeve.
Time stretched between us, loaded with meaning I didn't understand. She opened her mouth slightly, as if to speak, then closed it again. Her expression shifted from surprise to confusion to something that looked almost like... recognition?
But that was impossible. I'd never seen her before in my life.
Had I?
"Miss Minazuki," Professor Daizen's voice cut through the moment like a blade. "Perhaps you'd like to share your thoughts on the nature of perceived reality?"
She blinked, breaking our connection, and turned back to the professor. "I... I think sometimes we know something is real not because we can prove it, but because of how it makes us feel."
Minazuki.
Airi Minazuki.
The name bloomed in my mind like a flower opening to sunlight, bringing with it a rush of emotions I couldn't explain. Warmth, longing, hope, and underneath it all, a desperate fear of losing something precious.
"Interesting," Professor Daizen mused. "And what would you say to those who argue that feelings are the least reliable indicators of truth?"
Airi's voice was soft but steady. "I'd say they've never been in love."
The bracelet pulsed again, stronger this time, and I felt something deep in my chest respond—like a tuning fork struck in perfect harmony.
What is happening to me?
But even as I asked the question, part of me already knew the answer.
This wasn't just a dream.
This was a second chance.
And I wasn't going to waste it..