Asher woke up just moments before his alarm could pierce the morning silence. Blinking against the soft blue glow of dawn filtering through his window, he reached for his phone.
5:00 AM.
Monday.
Classes at Chiba Academy didn't start until 8:30, but this early wake-up wasn't accidental. Asher had made it a habit—a necessity, even—to train every morning. Building stamina, sharpening reflexes. If he was going to change the future, he needed to stay ahead of it.
He washed his face, the icy water shocking away the remnants of sleep, then slipped out of his apartment. The streets were still hushed, painted in silver-blue shadows. Cool air brushed against his skin as he stepped outside and began his warm-up routine.
A few light stretches. Arm swings. Squats. Then into a slow jog.
Just a few laps around the neighborhood… small progress every day.
He picked up his pace, feet tapping rhythmically against the pavement. The occasional familiar face passed him by—most of them elderly, already out for their own morning walks.
Asher nodded and smiled as he spotted a couple seated on a bench by the roadside. "Good morning, Uncle Lew. Aunt Lew."
The old man looked up, grinning beneath his newsboy cap. "Ah, young Asher. Jogging again, huh? Don't you ever sleep in?"
"Haha, just a habit now," Asher replied, lightly jogging in place to keep his blood moving.
Uncle Lew gave a hearty chuckle. "Feels like the world's still got hope when we've got young folks like you doing something good with their mornings instead of wasting it on nonsense."
"You're flattering me, Uncle. I'll be off now—still a few more laps to go," Asher said with a polite bow of his head.
"Stay safe, little Ash," Aunt Lew added warmly.
He waved goodbye and kept running.
Minute by minute, lap after lap, sweat rolled down his temple. His breath grew heavier, lungs burning slightly with the effort—but he didn't stop. Not yet.
One more lap.
One more push.
One more chance to be stronger than yesterday.
By the time he finally slowed to a walk, the sky had shifted from gray to gold. He checked his phone.
6:20 AM.
Still a little over two hours before school.
Asher made his way to a nearby vending machine and tapped in a few coins. A soft clunk echoed as an energy drink dropped into the tray. He cracked it open and took a long sip, the coolness rushing down his throat.
Leaning against the vending machine, he wiped the sweat from his brow with the edge of his shirt. Before him stretched the quiet silhouette of the city awakening—buildings standing tall against the slowly brightening sky, the soft hum of distant cars stirring life into the streets.
He stood there, silently taking it in.
This world—both familiar and foreign—was beautiful in its own way.
Asher smiled.
Then he turned and walked back.
Once home, he headed straight to the shower, washing off the fatigue of training and the weight of the morning air. Afterward, he changed into his Chiba Academy uniform: crisp, clean, and unassuming.
He paused at the door, taking a breath, then locked it behind him.
Another day had begun.
After leaving home, Asher made his way toward a small restaurant nestled on a corner just a few blocks from the academy. It was one of the few places that opened early—modest, quiet, and consistent. He ordered a light but energizing meal: eggs, rice, and grilled fish, along with a small miso soup on the side.
While waiting, he checked his phone, casually scrolling through the news and forums for anything out of the ordinary. Just like every morning, he searched for signs—clues that might suggest the plot was beginning to accelerate.
The food arrived, hot and comforting. Asher ate in calm silence, saving his energy for the long day ahead. When he finished, he checked the time.
7:40 AM.
Time to go.
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Chiba Academy.
The gates loomed ahead, clean and familiar. Students poured in, chatting, laughing, complaining about homework. A scene he'd seen countless times—but today felt strangely still.
Asher stepped through the entrance.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Mei—Raiden Mei—standing not far from the school entrance, surrounded by classmates. Her dark purple hair shimmered subtly under the morning sun. Asher was used to this—her circle of influence, her popularity. It was rare to see her alone.
Then suddenly… she looked in his direction.
And waved.
Asher blinked.
But he knew better. He'd seen this kind of scene before—the wave that felt like it was for him, only to find someone else standing behind. He resisted the brief flutter in his chest and kept walking, pretending he hadn't noticed. No need to embarrass himself.
He passed by, entering the main building with steady steps.
Inside the classroom, the air was still filled with pre-class chatter. Asher went straight to his seat, dropping his bag beside the desk. A few students gave him polite nods or short greetings, which he returned with the same quiet energy.
If you asked him whether he had friends here, he'd say yes—but not the kind that talked every day, not the kind who'd notice if he disappeared tomorrow.
He checked the time again. Still a few minutes before homeroom.
The exhaustion from training, from planning, from carrying the weight of a world not his own—it caught up to him. He folded his arms on the desk, lowered his head, and closed his eyes.
Just a few minutes... I'm only human, after all.
----------------
He was gently shaken awake.
Asher slowly lifted his head, blinking away the haze of sleep.
The first thing he saw: a pair of soft indigo eyes staring into his.
"Hm?" he murmured, still disoriented.
"Wake up, Ash. Class is about to start," said Mei.
His mind took a second to catch up. Mei? He sat up straighter, puzzled.
Mei leaned in slightly, her voice lowering into a whisper. "By the way, I'm mad at you."
Asher stared. "...Huh?"
"You ignored my wave earlier at the gate." Her tone was teasing, but her expression was unmistakably pouting.
Wait.
She was waving at me?
"Ah sorry about that I thought you were greeting someone else," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't think—"
"I forgive you," she said with a satisfied smile, before he could finish. "Just don't ignore me next time, alright?"
Asher gave a small nod, still trying to process the turn of events. "Sure, but... can I ask? Why today? I mean, we haven't really talked much since that one time..."
Mei tilted her head, like the question had never occurred to her. "Aren't we friends?"
Friends?
The word settled strangely in his chest. He looked at her again, this girl who will be the center of tragedy and turmoil. And now, here she was, smiling carefree.
Asher didn't know what to respond.
But in this moment, maybe it was okay to smile back.
---------------------------------------
The homeroom teacher closed her attendance tablet with a light tap."That's all for now," she announced, before stepping out of the classroom.
The moment the door clicked shut, Asher stretched his arms over his head with a yawn.
Finally. Break time.
He stood, ready to leave the classroom and maybe clear his head. But before he could take a full step, a group of students intercepted him—mostly the same boys who usually orbited around Mei like satellites.
"Student Asher," one of them said stiffly. "Come with us."
Asher blinked. Student Asher? That was new.
He looked from one face to another. They weren't smiling. In fact, most wore a mixture of irritation and artificial confidence—like amateurs trying too hard to act tough.
So this is because Mei talked to me.
Asher exhaled slowly. Figures.
Without a word, he followed them. He wasn't exactly eager to get involved in some cliché schoolyard drama, but if they wanted to confront him, fine. He'd rather know what they were planning than let it fester.
They led him to a secluded stairwell—quiet, out of the way. One of the students shoved him roughly into the wall, and the others quickly formed a loose circle, blocking any easy exit.
"Don't get cocky, you bastard," the one in front snarled. "Just because Mei-sama acknowledged you."
Asher narrowed his eyes, unmoving.
He reached up slowly and grabbed the boy's wrist—firmly.
A pained grunt escaped from the boy's lips as Asher applied just enough pressure.
"With this little force and you're already whining?" Asher said, voice low and calm. "And you thought threatening me was a good idea?"
"Y-You—!"
The boy tried to throw a punch. The others cheered, hungry for escalation.
But before the fist could connect, Asher caught it mid-air.
"You still don't get it, do you?" Asher said, tightening his grip again. The boy's knees buckled slightly. "Is this really about her? Or is it just jealousy talking?"
"Aaagh—damn it—!" the boy howled.
With a sharp pivot, Asher flung him back toward the group. The boy stumbled and crashed into another, nearly taking two more down with him.
Asher looked at the lot of them with a cold, steady gaze.
"If only your loyalty was this strong when that happen. Maybe then I'd take your little act seriously."
He turned and walked away, leaving the silence behind him as heavy as a dropped stone.
By the time Asher arrived at the cafeteria, the usual buzz of students had already begun to settle. He headed to the counter—only to find all the decent food was gone.
"Sorry, sweetheart," the canteen aunt said with a sympathetic shrug. "A couple of kids came through and cleaned us out."
...Seriously?
He stared at the shelves. The only thing left was a single bottle of strawberry milk.
His brow twitched.
So they really were trying to mess with him.
Sighing, he grabbed the bottle and paid for it, then made his way to the rooftop in search of quiet.
The rooftop was blissfully empty.
Asher sat down against the fence, the strawberry milk cool in his hand, and tried to let the wind clear the static from his head. But peace was fleeting.
He flinched slightly as something soft pressed against his cheek.
He turned.
Mei stood beside him, holding out a wrapped sandwich in one hand, a soft expression in her indigo eyes.
"…For me?" he asked.
She nodded.
"…Thanks," he said, taking it from her and unwrapping it.
For a moment, they sat in silence.
Then Mei spoke, voice small but sincere. "I'm… sorry about earlier."
Asher shook his head. "You didn't do anything. It's not you who should be apologizing."
"But still—"
He raised a hand, gently cutting her off. "Tell you what… I'll consider this bread your apology."
"I—"
"Shhh," he said with a tired smile, "Apology accepted. No need to dwell on it."
A brief pause, then—
"…Thank you," she said, quietly.
Asher hummed in acknowledgment, biting into the sandwich. It wasn't much, but it was warm.