Akitsu Shouga lay motionless on a small grassy hill just beyond the outskirts of Sunwind Village.

  Warm sunlight pressed against his closed eyelids. The sky above was a flawless blue, the kind that made the world feel impossibly ordinary. A strong, refreshing wind swept across the hill, bending the tall grass in waves and carrying with it the distant sounds of village life—laughter, footsteps, merchants calling out prices, the soft rhythm of routines continuing uninterrupted, as if tragedy had never brushed this place.

  Slowly, Akitsu opened his eyes.

  “…I’m alive?”

  His voice came out hoarse, barely louder than the wind. He pushed himself upright, blinking again and again as his senses caught up with reality. His chest rose and fell evenly. No burning pain. No pressure. No tearing agony.

  He looked down at his body, hands trembling as he pressed his palms against his torso—right where the icicle should have been.

  Nothing.

  No blood. No wound. Not even a scar.

  “What… happened?”

  Confusion gnawed at him as his gaze drifted toward the village below. Thin trails of smoke rose gently from chimneys. Villagers moved about calmly through the streets, unhurried and unafraid.

  Too calm.

  “…Why am I back here?” he whispered.

  His mind snapped to a single thought.

  “I need to check on Master.”

  Akitsu sprang to his feet and sprinted down the hill, heart pounding with a sense of urgency that felt painfully out of place in such a peaceful scene. Grass whipped past his legs as the wooden gates of Sunwind Village rushed toward him.

  The moment he passed through them, he slowed.

  Not because he wanted to—because something felt wrong.

  The village was intact. Untouched.

  People chatted in small groups. Children ran laughing through the streets. Merchants leaned over their stalls, calling out cheerfully to passersby.

  No scorched buildings. No shattered roads. No screams.

  “What happened here…?” Akitsu muttered, his voice tight. “Why is everyone acting like nothing happened?”

  His eyes caught sight of a familiar structure in the distance—a modest mochi stall, its cloth banner fluttering softly in the breeze.

  Miyu Hikari’s stall… it’s still here.

  His throat tightened. Swallowing hard, he let instinct guide his steps, carrying him toward the dojo he knew better than any other place in the village.

  When he reached the front gate, he stopped.

  Please… let them be okay.

  He stepped inside.

  The scent of brewed tea greeted him first.

  Kurogane Daichi sat at a low wooden table, relaxed, sipping from a bamboo cup. Across from him sat Ayame Hoshizaki, her posture immaculate, her expression composed as ever. They spoke quietly, their voices low and unhurried.

  They looked… normal.

  Alive.

  Daichi noticed him first.

  “Oh?” Daichi said, smiling lightly. “Who do we have here?”

  Akitsu froze.

  “…Master?”

  Daichi tilted his head. “Master?”

  Akitsu stepped forward, words spilling out before he could stop them. “What happened?! Are you alright?! The village—there were explosions—!”

  Daichi laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “Whoa, slow down there, young man. I’m not your master.”

  The world seemed to tilt.

  “…What?”

  Daichi stood and stretched, joints popping casually. “I don’t recall ever meeting you. But—” his gaze drifted to Akitsu’s forearms, measuring, observant “—you’ve got a fine build. If you’re looking for a teacher, you could become my disciple.”

  Akitsu’s fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palms.

  “What do you mean you don’t remember me?!” he demanded. “I am your disciple! We trained together yesterday!”

  Daichi frowned slightly. “Yesterday? No. I was training alone in the mountains.”

  “…That’s impossible.”

  “If you want to train,” Daichi continued evenly, unfazed by Akitsu’s distress, “why not start today? Or are you having second thoughts?”

  Akitsu’s thoughts spiraled chaotically.

  He’s acting completely normal… Wasn’t he laughing while holding explosives? Did I… travel back in time?

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “…Do you want to become my disciple?” Daichi asked again.

  Akitsu hesitated. Then, slowly, deliberately, he bowed deeply.

  “Yes… Master.”

  Daichi smiled. “Good. Training starts tomorrow at sunrise.”

  “C-Can I stay here?” Akitsu asked quickly. “I don’t have money or a place to sleep.”

  Daichi shrugged. “Sure. Why not? Hoshizaki, prepare the guest room.”

  Ayame rose without a word, nodding once before leaving the room.

  Akitsu exhaled, tension leaking from his shoulders. “Thank you very much. I really appreciate your kindness.”

  “It’s nothing,” Daichi replied. “By the way… where are you from?”

  Akitsu didn’t hesitate.

  “…I lost my memories a few years ago,” he lied smoothly. “So I don’t know.”

  Daichi studied him for a long moment, eyes sharp beneath his relaxed demeanor. Then he nodded. “I see. The guest room will be ready soon.”

  “Master,” Akitsu said, “may I take a walk around the village for a bit?”

  “Go ahead,” Daichi replied. “Just be careful.”

  Akitsu bowed once more and left the dojo.

  As he walked through the village center, the unease in his chest only grew heavier.

  Everything feels… right, he thought. But why does it feel wrong at the same time?

  His teeth clenched.

  If I really traveled back in time… then what triggered it? Do I have some kind of power?

  Tap.

  Something touched his shoulder.

  He turned.

  A small girl stood behind him.

  White hair. Pale blue eyes. An expression utterly blank.

  “Hello…?” Akitsu said gently. “Do you need something?”

  The girl nodded once.

  “Are you lost? Where are your parents?”

  She didn’t answer.

  Instead, she grabbed his hand—and ran.

  “H-Hey!” Akitsu exclaimed as she pulled him along. “Slow down! That’s dangerous!”

  She didn’t slow.

  They darted through winding streets, past empty corners and narrowing paths, until they stopped before a cramped, shadow-filled alley.

  The girl released his hand and pointed inside.

  “…In there?” Akitsu asked cautiously. “Is something wrong?”

  She continued pointing.

  Akitsu forced a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

  No response.

  Carefully, he stepped into the alley.

  Darkness swallowed him.

  At the far end—only a wall.

  “…I was worried for nothing,” he sighed. “I thought there’d be a killer or something.”

  Then—

  Two masked figures dropped from above, landing behind him and blocking the exit.

  Akitsu’s heart slammed against his ribs.

  “W-Who are you?!”

  “Sorry, kid,” one of them said casually. “This is just our job.”

  They charged.

  Akitsu moved on instinct—dodging, blocking, countering with precision born from countless hours of training. He seized one attacker’s arm and slammed them into the ground.

  A sharp twist.

  “AHH!!”

  The scream was unmistakably feminine.

  “Stop!!” the other masked figure shouted. “You’re hurting her!”

  Akitsu hesitated.

  That moment was enough.

  The second attacker drew a knife and lunged.

  Akitsu dodged every slash, seized the wrist, spun—and drove a crushing punch into the attacker’s face.

  The man collapsed.

  Then—pain.

  A massive icicle burst through Akitsu’s chest.

  His vision went white.

  —

  He awoke standing on a small red island.

  A massive sakura tree dominated its center, its petals a deep, blood-red hue. Black water surrounded the island, stretching endlessly in all directions, swallowing the horizon.

  “…So I’m back here,” Akitsu muttered.

  “This is where I go when I die… huh?”

  He looked down at his hands.

  “…Am I the only one with this power?”

  Stepping forward, he entered the black water.

  No reflection stared back at him.

  A chill ran through his spine.

  Red doors floated endlessly across the surface.

  “…Let’s see what’s waiting for me this time.”

  He reached out.

  Opened one.

  The world fell silent.